


Seijoh Inc.

by DeathBelle



Series: Seijoh, Inc. [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slow Build, office!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9252632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime gets an incredible opportunity to work for Seijoh Inc., one of the most respected businesses in the city. Everything is going well until he insults an incredibly rude man who turns out to be the CEO's son, Oikawa Tooru. Iwaizumi expects to be fired, but instead Oikawa develops a strange fascination with Iwaizumi and refuses to leave him alone.Iwaizumi is fairly certain that Oikawa is simply trying to annoy him to death.In which Ushijima should keep his mouth shut, Hanamaki possesses extreme patience, and Iwaizumi decides that perhaps Oikawa isn't quite as irritating as he initially thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Seijoh S.A.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832856) by [YuiMakino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuiMakino/pseuds/YuiMakino)



> I've combined my obligatory Iwaoi fic and the cliche Office AU that I never got around to writing. It was a lot of fun putting this fic together and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I'll be updating once a week. Any feedback is appreciated, and thanks for reading!

When Iwaizumi was selected as the best candidate for an open position at Seijoh Inc., he was ecstatic. It was a highly prestigious company that employed a very strict hiring process to weed out unqualified applicants. When Iwaizumi had applied for the job he hadn’t actually expected to be chosen.

Two weeks after his congratulatory phone call from the company’s Vice President, Iwaizumi stepped off of the elevator onto the seventh floor. His escort was the VP himself, and the man was equally as intimidating as his voice had been over the phone.

“This,” he said, “is where you’ll be working.” He swept an arm to encompass the large open space, dotted with cubicles. Iwaizumi couldn’t see the employees, but he heard the overlapping tap of keyboards. “Your office is on the far wall. Arrange it however you’re most comfortable.”

“Thank you, Ushijima-san,” said Iwaizumi. 

Ushijima nodded. “You’ll have six employees reporting directly to you. They will be able to familiarize you with our paperwork and processes. I assume our methods will be a little different than your previous employer’s.” He glanced around the room, as if looking for something. It seemed he failed to find it, and said in a louder voice, “Hanamaki?”

A head popped around the corner of the nearest cubicle. “Yes, Ushijima-san?”

Ushijima clapped a hand onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He tried not to flinch.

“This is Iwaizumi-san,” said Ushijima. “He’s your new supervisor. Familiarize him with the company’s operations and teach him the software.”

“Yes, sir!”

Ushijima’s heavy-browed gaze returned to Iwaizumi. “My office is three floors up. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call. You have my number.”

“Yes. Thank you, Ushijima-san.”

Ushijima stepped back onto the elevator. There was an awkward moment during which the office was completely still. Then the elevator doors slid closed and curious heads popped out of all the other cubicles, all of them focused on Iwaizumi.

“Umm.” Iwaizumi suddenly felt awkward. “Hi. I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.”

The stares continued.

Hanamaki, the one who had spoken to Ushijima, stepped out of his cubicle and approached. “Hanamaki Takahiro,” he said, extending a hand. Iwaizumi shook it gratefully. “Please ignore everyone else. They’re all extremely unprofessional.”

A bitter murmur shivered through the room and the heads disappeared. 

“Please allow me to show you to your office.”

Iwaizumi already liked Hanamaki.

Hanamaki led him around the nest of cubicles to the far side of the room. The office wall was made of glass, but long, heavy blinds covered them from floor to ceiling from the inside. Hanamaki unlocked the door with one of several keys that dangled on a ring that he pulled from his pocket. “Your key is in the top drawer,” he said. “I’m the only one on this floor who has a spare.” He nudged the door open with his shoe and gestured Iwaizumi inside.

It was much more spacious than the office Iwaizumi had occupied at his last job. One wall was lined with empty bookshelves, the other with filing cabinets. A solid wooden desk sat in the center, facing the door. The outer wall was constructed of clear windows and Iwaizumi had an excellent view of the city below.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” said Hanamaki. “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll go over some things with you.”

“Of course,” said Iwaizumi. “Thank you, Hanamaki-san.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” said Hanamaki as he stepped out of the office. “You’re my boss, after all.”

Iwaizumi spent the next few minutes pacing the office, running his fingers along the tops of the filing cabinets and staring at the people bustling along on the street below him. He sat at his desk for a brief time, getting a feel for the space he would occupy for at least forty hours every week for the foreseeable future. The chair was well-padded. So far he had found nothing to complain about.

He rose and moved toward the door, hesitating before he entered the open area beyond. After a moment of consideration he raised the blinds on each side of the door, providing him a view of the cubicles beyond. 

The heads had returned, and they were still staring at him.

He offered a flat wave and they disappeared again. 

Iwaizumi smiled to himself and stepped out of his new office, thinking that everything was going to work out. 

Hanamaki was clearly very good at his job, and he was very thorough when reviewing company policies and procedures with Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi found himself wondering why they hadn’t just promoted Hanamaki to the position of supervisor instead of hiring externally, but he knew better than to ask.

The morning passed quickly, and by the time noon rolled around, Iwaizumi thought he remembered most of his new employees’ names. They seemed fairly competent, except perhaps for Kunimi, who was the youngest of the group. Hanamaki had even murmured something to Iwaizumi about Kunimi’s laziness, but did say that he never failed to complete his work in accordance with deadlines.

Iwaizumi was already making plans about the best way to deal with that. He’d had employees similar to Kunimi before. Typically their main problem was that they didn’t have a supervisor who could motivate them.

Hanamaki offered to show Iwaizumi to their favorite lunch spot, and he gratefully accepted. Iwaizumi’s last job had been on the extreme opposite side of the city, so he was largely unfamiliar with the area surrounding Seijoh. 

He followed Hanamaki across the street to a small restaurant that was already full of customers when they arrived at 12:05. Hanamaki stated they had the best curry in the city. Apparently the other twenty-five people in line felt the same way. 

They chatted idly as they waited, and ten minutes later, they were next in line to place their order.

At least until a man yapping away on his cell phone cut directly in front of Hanamaki, sidling up to the counter as if there was no one else waiting.

Iwaizumi blinked at him, then looked at Hanamaki, who had inched back to give the man more room instead of forcefully ejecting him to the back of the line.

It was only one person. It would only take an extra minute or two. 

But that wasn’t really the point.

“Excuse me,” said Iwaizumi, sidestepping Hanamaki to step closer to the intruder. 

He wasn’t acknowledged.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat and spoke more loudly. “ _Excuse me_.”

The man glanced over his shoulder, turned away, and then did a double take. “Ah, hold on one second.” He lowered the phone and raised an eyebrow at Iwaizumi. “Yes?”

His demeanor was airy and polite, as if he wasn’t aware that he’d done anything wrong. His eyes were wide, attentive, and Iwaizumi blinked twice, rapidly.

Hanamaki hissed something in Iwaizumi’s ear, but he didn’t hear.

“We’ve been waiting for nearly fifteen minutes,” said Iwaizumi. 

“Well yes,” said the man, “it’s a busy restaurant.”

Hanamaki pulled at Iwaizumi’s sleeve, demanding his attention, but he was ignored.

“I can see that,” said Iwaizumi. “I also see that you made the mistake of skipping the line. We were here first. You should go to the back and wait like everyone else.”

The man looked as if he’d just been told the sky was pink. He stared at Iwaizumi for a moment, then looked past him to Hanamaki, who looked horrified.

“Ah, Makki-chan,” said the man. A dazzling smile lit up his face, as if he’d put on a mask. “Where’s Mattsun? You never go to lunch alone.”

Iwaizumi looked between them, confused. If the stranger had cut line because he knew Hanamaki, then why hadn’t he at least acknowledged him? He’d acted as if there was no one else waiting, as if he was the only man in the world. 

Hanamaki glanced at Iwaizumi, which drew the intruder’s attention back to him, as well.

“You’re eating together?” The man was puzzled for a moment, then his eyes lit up in sudden comprehension. “Ah, you must be the new seventh-floor supervisor.” The smirk that danced across his lips was smug. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.”

Iwaizumi just stared at him. Then he looked at Hanamaki, who looked utterly humiliated on his behalf. 

He forced himself to look back at Oikawa and said through stiff lips, “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Iwaizumi,” repeated Oikawa. “Iwa-chan. I’ll pardon you for being rude to me just this one time. You can buy my curry and then all will be forgiven, yes?”

His smile was perfectly confident.

Hanamaki seemed to relax a little, as if the situation had been resolved.

And maybe it would have been resolved, if Iwaizumi had kept his mouth shut.

“Oikawa Tooru,” Iwaizumi said. “I assume that means you’re the CEO’s son. If so, then you are much more financially capable of buying curry than I am. You’re the one who was rude, not me, and I’m not going to suck up to you by buying your lunch.” 

He sidestepped Oikawa, who was startled into stillness by Iwaizumi’s response. Iwaizumi stepped up to the counter and placed his order, very conscious of the stare drilling into the back of his head. 

He felt a certain vindictive satisfaction, but it was dampened by the realization that he probably wouldn’t have a job tomorrow.

Sometimes he wished he could just keep his head down and shut up.

He took his food and found a freshly vacated table against the front wall of the building. He dropped into one of the chairs and stared at his plate for a long moment.

Hanamaki joined him with a sigh, slumping into the chair as if he’d just finished a marathon.

“Oikawa Tooru,” Iwaizumi said flatly. 

Hanamaki shook his head. He looked sympathetic. “I tried to warn you.”

“At least I haven’t brought anything to the office yet. I won’t have to pack my things when I get fired.”

Hanamaki frowned, brow furrowed. “I don’t think you’ll get fired, strangely enough,” he said. “Oikawa didn’t seem mad. I’ve seen him mad. It’s a hell of a spectacle. You might be okay.”

The knot in Iwaizumi’s gut loosened. “Right. I mean, he’s just the boss’s son. It’s not like he’s _my_ boss or anything.”

Hanamaki’s face tightened. “Well, actually…”

“Ah, fuck.”

“Oikawa works on the tenth floor. He’s an executive, just a step under Ushijima.”

Iwaizumi pressed a hand over his face. “Of course he does.”

“It’s not like he does anything important, though!” said Hanamaki, clearly trying to ease Iwaizumi’s distress. “He just sits in his office all day. No one really knows what he does or anything. We all just think the boss gave him a job title so he’d feel important.”

Iwaizumi peered through his fingers. “But he’s still important enough to fire me.”

“Well, technically.”

“Great.” Iwaizumi looked down at his food. His appetite was suddenly gone, but it would do him no good to skip a meal. He broke his chopsticks apart and started poking at the rice. 

“Like I said, he didn’t seem mad,” said Hanamaki through a mouthful of his own food. “You should be fine as long as you’re careful from now on. Oikawa’s someone you have to be careful with, anyway. He’s bad news.”

“You mean other than being an annoying little shit?”

Hanamaki nodded, solemn. “That’s probably the least offensive part of him. He’s much worse than that. You should’ve seen what he did to Ushijima. He was a mess for weeks.” 

“Ushijima?” repeated Iwaizumi, surprised. The VP had seemed like an extremely strong individual, both mentally and physically. He couldn’t imagine how someone like Oikawa could affect him that badly. “What did he do to-”

“You should’ve gotten a bigger table!” 

Iwaizumi looked up at the voice, his eye twitching. Oikawa stood over them with his plate. 

“I would’ve had lunch with you,” said Oikawa, pouting down at them. “Now who am I supposed to sit with?”

Iwaizumi just stared at him. This guy couldn’t be serious.

Oikawa glanced around the crowded restaurant, face lighting up as he spotted someone familiar. “Kuroo-chan!” he exclaimed, taking a step away from their table. He looked over his shoulder and said, “Have a good lunch, Makki, Iwa-chan.”

Then he was gone, and Iwaizumi wondered if he’d hallucinated the entire encounter. Surely the CEO’s son, who was also an executive of the company, would not behave like such a child.

“Yeah, you’re good,” said Hanamaki, digging back into his curry. “He’s definitely not mad.”

“Did he just call me Iwa-chan?”

Hanamaki looked like he was struggling not to laugh. Iwaizumi appreciated the effort.

“You’ll get used to it,” said Hanamaki. “Just don’t let him think it bothers you or it’ll get worse. I feel bad for Kuroo-san. His tolerance for Oikawa is at negative six right now.”

“Who’s Kuroo?”

“I guess you haven’t met him yet. Ninth floor, finance manager. He’s a nice guy, you’ll like him. I can introduce you when we get back, if you want.”

“That would be nice,” said Iwaizumi. “I’d like to meet everyone ranked higher than me so I can try not to make an idiot out of myself again.”

Hanamaki smiled a little around his chopsticks. “That was pretty badass of you, though. Not giving into him even after you knew who he was.”

Iwaizumi shrugged and took another bite. “I don’t like people who try to take advantage of others because of their position. It’s not right.”

There had been quite a bit of that at Iwaizumi’s last job. He’d been fairly eager to leave. 

He hadn’t thought he would have to face it again so soon at a company as highly renowned as Seijoh.

He could deal with Oikawa, though. If what Hanamaki said was true, then Oikawa mostly stayed in his own office three floors above Iwaizumi. They should have minimal contact since Oikawa wasn’t his direct supervisor. If Iwaizumi had to answer to anyone it would be Ushijima, and he was perfectly fine with that.

Oikawa Tooru shouldn’t be much of a problem at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got such nice feedback on the first chapter! You guys are the best. ^^

The next day, Iwaizumi stood at the door of Hanamaki’s cubicle, listening intently as he was explained the company’s complex data system.

“Make sure you always enter the correct codes before you submit any data,” said Hanamaki, pointing out the proper entry point on the screen. “I’ll make you a copy of all the codes. There are around sixty of them, although usually we only need the first fifteen or so.”

Iwaizumi nodded, mentally filing all the information away for later use. His mind had been crammed full of information in the past two days, but he was surprisingly enjoying it. The work didn’t seem bad, and now that his new employees had stopped staring at him he felt fairly comfortable. 

The elevator doors shifted open, but Iwaizumi didn’t bother to see who stepped off. People periodically came and went throughout the day; mostly interns delivering mail or custodians doing their rounds. So far no one had arrived to meet with Iwaizumi.

Unfortunately this visitor was, indeed, for him.

“It’s so quiet down here!” The voice echoed through the office space, loud and bright. 

Iwaizumi found himself cringing. To his chagrin, he recognized the voice immediately.

He ducked a little lower to make sure his head wasn’t visible above the low wall of the cubicle. 

“What is he doing here?” Iwaizumi hissed, the words sharp on the air.

“I don’t know,” Hanamaki whispered back. “He never comes to the seventh floor. I haven’t seen him down here in months.”

“Hello~!” called Oikawa, singsong. “Anybody here?”

Iwaizumi slouched even more. “Get rid of him.”

“What?” said Hanamaki. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“I don’t care. I’m your boss and you have to do what I say, so just get rid of him.”

“Iwa-chan! I know you’re in here somewhere!” said Oikawa, his voice drawing closer.

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and wished he could just disappear. 

It didn’t work.

“There you are!” said Oikawa, stopping in the doorway of Hanamaki’s cubicle. “I was yelling for you, didn’t you hear me?”

Iwaizumi took a deep breath and reminded himself how badly he needed this job. If he got fired he couldn’t afford food. If he got fired he would be living in the street. If he got fired he would be arrested because he would physically strangle Oikawa Tooru.

When he turned, his face was schooled into something passive. “Good morning, Oikawa-san.”

“Makki-chan, it’s so plain in here,” said Oikawa, eyeing the walls of the cubicle. “You should decorate a little. You spend most of your life in this little square. You might as well enjoy it.”

Hanamaki made a sound but didn’t respond. 

“What are the two of you doing, anyway?”

“Hanamaki is teaching me Seijoh’s software systems,” said Iwaizumi. “We had different programs at my last job.”

“Is Makki a good teacher?”

“Yes, he’s very capable.”

“Good job, Makki-chan!” said Oikawa. He reached forward and ruffled Hanamaki’s hair. “I’m so proud. Come on, Iwa-chan, I want to see what you’ve done with your new office!”

He slipped out of the cubicle, leaving Iwaizumi and Hanamaki to flatly stare at one another.

“If I accidentally kill him,” said Iwaizumi, “will you help me hide the body?”

“We’ll use the industrial shredder on the second floor,” said Hanamaki. “There are plenty of people who would help.”

“Iwa-chan?”

“I’m coming,” said Iwaizumi, raising his voice. He shared a last look with Hanamaki, who was combing his fingers through his ruffled hair, before leaving the cubicle and starting toward his office.

He passed by Yahaba and Watari on his way, both of whom looked at him with a measure of sympathy.

Iwaizumi took a breath and moved forward to accept his fate.

Oikawa had already let himself into Iwaizumi’s office. The door had been open, but that didn’t necessarily mean Iwaizumi was accepting visitors.

Oikawa stood just inside the door, scanning the office with a tilt of his head.

“It’s so boring in here, Iwa-chan,” he said. “The room has no personality!”

“I just started yesterday.”

“That’s no excuse. You could’ve brought some pictures or something. Don’t you have a family to show off? A wife or something?”

“No.”

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan. Someone will love you some day, probably.”

Iwaizumi ground his teeth together to hold back his snappy remark.

“You need to do _something_ , though, I don’t know how you can live like this,” said Oikawa, spreading his arms to indicate the undecorated office. He paced across the room and stared through the wall of windows. After a moment he shook his head and made a _tsk_ sound, turning back toward Iwaizumi. “The view from down here is awful. I don’t know how you stand it.”

“You’re only three floors up,” said Iwaizumi, the words slipping between gritted teeth.

“Three floors makes a lot of difference,” said Oikawa with a shrug. He flicked his bangs out of his face. “You should come see the view from my office sometime. It’s spectacular.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Oikawa drew closer and stopped only a step away from Iwaizumi, looking down at him with a smug smile. 

There was a glint of something in his eyes and Iwaizumi braced himself. He expected to be told that he was out of line, or that he needed to change his attitude if he expected to keep his job.

Instead, what Oikawa said was, “I’m going to get you a plant.”

“A… what?”

“A plant, Iwa-chan. I’m getting you a plant for your office.”

Iwaizumi just stared at him.

What the hell was wrong with this idiot?

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” said Oikawa. He broke Iwaizumi’s stare and sidestepped him. Their shoulders brushed as he stepped past. “I have important work to do. Have a good day, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi watched him go, his mouth slightly open. 

Oikawa walked past the cubicles like he was on a runway. He paused at one of the doors, offering a blinding smile. “Hello, Kindaichi-chan. You’ve been doing good work lately, according to Ushiwaka.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t see Kindaichi, but he heard him quite clearly.

“Oh, I, uh… Thank you, Oikawa-san. I’m doing my best.”

That was all Oikawa had to say. A moment later he’d boarded the elevator and was swept back up to his floor.

Iwaizumi reached the door of Kindaichi’s cubicle at the same time as Hanamaki. Matsukawa, who worked opposite him, had stood to peer over the edge of the wall.

Kindaichi was staring fixedly at his computer, ignoring all of them. His cheeks were flushed red.

“Kindaichi has a thing for Oikawa,” said Matsukawa.

“I do not!”

Laughter rang out from all sides, Kindaichi scowling beneath the attention. 

Iwaizumi was the only one who didn’t join in. The others were only joking, but it was clear from the look on Kindaichi’s face that Matsukawa wasn’t wrong. 

Iwaizumi couldn’t imagine why _anyone_ would have a thing for Oikawa Tooru. He was attractive, objectively speaking. His hair was perfect and his skin was flawless and his tailored suit fit well in all the right places. But once Oikawa opened his mouth, all of that went to waste. 

He still didn’t know the purpose of Oikawa’s visit to the seventh floor. As far as Iwaizumi could tell, the only thing he accomplished was annoying Iwaizumi. If that had been his intention, then he’d thoroughly succeeded.

“Come on, guys,” said Iwaizumi. “I know Oikawa’s nonsense is distracting but let’s get back to work.”

There was another string of laughter, but they did as asked. Matsukawa disappeared behind the wall and Hanamaki started back toward his own cubicle. 

Kindaichi glanced back at Iwaizumi with something that was clearly gratitude before he again focused on his computer screen.

There were a few more occasions throughout the course of the day during which Iwaizumi again idly wondered what Oikawa’s problem was, and why he’d taken the time to parade around Iwaizumi’s office. Each time he failed to reach a conclusion.

It wasn’t until the following day that Iwaizumi began to suspect what Oikawa’s true purpose was.

Oikawa hadn’t fired him after the restaurant incident because that would have been too easy.

Instead, he was going to terrorize Iwaizumi with his presence until he was forced to quit.

  
  
  
The next morning passed without incident. Iwaizumi felt more and more comfortable with Seijoh’s computer systems and with his employees. He liked all of them, even Kunimi, who he’d initially thought would be the biggest problem. Watari was a very reliable and capable employee who was not easily distracted. Yahaba had only been on the seventh floor for a couple of months, having been promoted from a different position. It appeared that he had caught on quickly, though, and Iwaizumi had only heard him ask Hanamaki for guidance on one occasion.

Most importantly, the group seemed to get along well, as if they’d worked together for years. Some of them had, but even the newest among them fit in easily. Iwaizumi found himself becoming part of the closely knit group already, even though it was only his third day on the job. 

It was a relief. At his last job he’d had coworkers whose personalities had been impossible to deal with.

He’d only met one person like that so far, and as long as that person stayed on his own floor, there wouldn’t be any problems.

Fifteen minutes after they’d resumed work after lunch, the elevator doors slid open.

“Iwa-chan~!”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes as the voice of _that person_ rang out in his office for the second consecutive day. 

This time he was in his own office sorting paperwork and couldn’t even attempt to use Hanamaki to reroute Oikawa. 

He considered hiding beneath his desk, but before he’d made the decision Oikawa was already at his door, that smug smile stretched across his face.

“How’s it going, Iwa-chan?” asked Oikawa, standing in the doorway with his hands behind his back.

Iwaizumi didn’t know what he was concealing, but he hoped it was a murder weapon. Iwaizumi would rather be dead than have to participate in this conversation.

“Fine. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes. I need the Uchida reports in the next five minutes or your entire department is fired.”

Iwaizumi’s brain burst into static. Had Hanamaki mentioned those reports and he’d forgotten? Had he neglected something that important? Surely he hadn’t missed it. He’d taken notes about all of the most pressing paperwork that needed to be done and he was certain nothing with the name Uchida was on the list. Did a memo get sent up to their floor and get misplaced? Was it…

“Calm down, Iwa-chan, I’m joking. You look like you’re about to have an aneurism.”

Iwaizumi stared up at him, and for a moment he was too startled to be angry.

But that didn’t last very long.

“Right,” he snapped. “Hilarious. Now do you actually need something important or are you just here to harass me?”

“Rude,” said Oikawa, the word airy. “I brought you a gift. But if you’re going to be that way then maybe I’ll just keep it for myself.”

“A gift?” repeated Iwaizumi flatly. “You’re joking.”

“No, this time I’m serious. Guess what it is!”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not even trying to guess.”

“Obviously.”

Oikawa huffed and moved further into the office, stopping just in front of Iwaizumi’s desk. 

Iwaizumi could see his employees pop their heads above their cubicle walls to watch through the clear office wall. 

He wished he’d left the blinds closed.

“Prepare yourself,” said Oikawa seriously. “It’s amazing.”

Iwaizumi was unimpressed. “What is it?”

Oikawa’s face split into a smile and he presented the gift he’d concealed behind his back. He placed it on the corner of Iwaizumi’s desk with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

Iwaizumi stared at it. “What the hell is that?”

“I told you I was getting you a plant.”

“That’s not even a real plant.”

“Of course it is. It’s a Venus flytrap. See? It eats bugs and stuff. It has little teeth.” He pointed out the perfectly obvious jaws of the plant. “Sometimes we get office spiders. It will protect you.”

“Please tell me you seriously did not buy me a Venus flytrap.”

“It’s perfect!” said Oikawa, his smile more smug than ever. “It’s mean and snappy just like you.”

“ _What_ ?”

“See? Just like that, when your eyebrows get all angry. You’re practically twins.”

“Oikawa-”

“You’re welcome.” Oikawa grinned at him, then started back toward the door. “I know, you want me to stay, but I have work to do.” He waved at Iwaizumi from the doorway. “Bye-bye, Iwa-chan.”

The heads ducked down as Oikawa crossed the room and stepped onto the elevator. As soon as the doors slid shut, they popped up again, staring at Iwaizumi.

He stood and stomped across his office, yanking the blinds closed with a huff.

Through the open door, he heard a pair of snickers.

He understood how it would be funny to anyone else, but he was personally furious. Who did Oikawa think he was, anyway?

He crossed his arms and stared down at the stupid plant on his desk. His first instinct was to throw it out the window, just because it reminded him of Oikawa, and if he couldn’t throw Oikawa himself out the window, then the plant was the next best thing. 

He scowled down at it for a few long minutes, brooding. 

Then he picked up the plant and moved it to the bookshelf nearest the windows, so it would get enough sunlight.

He didn’t know who he was more furious at; Oikawa, or himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had a dollar for every time I typed "Iwa-chan" I would quit my job and write trashy fanfiction for the rest of my life.

Iwaizumi must have been a horrible human being in his past life.

Oikawa visiting the seventh floor became part of the daily routine. Typically he would save his harassment solely for Iwaizumi. Sometimes, when he was particularly bored, it would bleed over to the others. Teasing Kunimi seemed to be one of his favorite pastimes, second only to annoying Iwaizumi. 

His primary reasoning for making the daily trip down to the seventh floor was to check on the plant that he’d gifted Iwaizumi. He insisted that someone as cold as Iwa-chan couldn’t be trusted with a life and he felt the need to monitor the welfare of the plant himself. He brought it water and talked to it in a low murmur and did literally everything else within his range of abilities to annoy Iwaizumi to the point of madness. 

Two weeks after the Venus flytrap, Oikawa dragged in a potted peace lily and placed it next to the flytrap.

“It was getting lonely,” he said simply. “Besides, Iwa-chan, you’re too high-strung all the time. You need some peace in your life.”

“If you would leave me the hell alone maybe I would find some peace.”

“Don’t be so mean, Iwa-chan, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“You don’t have feelings, Trashykawa.”

No matter what Iwaizumi said, though, it never deterred Oikawa from coming right back the next day. 

About a month after his first day, Iwaizumi sat at his desk, eyes flitting back and forth between the computer screen and the list of codes that Hanamaki had typed out. A stack of files was in front of him, waiting to be entered into the system. 

It was only eleven o’clock, and it had already been a long day.

The phone on his desk rang, and he answered it without looking up. 

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Ooh, you have a sexy phone voice, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and said a silent prayer for patience. “What do you want, Oikawa?”

“Let’s have lunch together today,” said Oikawa. “My treat.”

“Can’t,” said Iwaizumi. He opened his eyes and started entering codes again, double-checking each one for accuracy. 

“Why not? Do you have a lunch date already?”

“No, I’m not taking lunch. I have to finish up some work.”

“That’s not healthy, Iwa-chan.”

“It’s fine. Hanamaki is going to bring me something. I’ll eat at my desk.”

“After work, then?”

Iwaizumi blinked and looked away from the screen. He must have been focusing too hard because he had no idea what Oikawa was talking about. “What?”

“Let’s go get dinner after work,” said Oikawa. 

“Why?”

“Why not?”

_Because you’re annoying._

_Because I can’t stand to hear your voice._

_Because I’d rather throw myself out of this window right now than to be seen in public with you_.

“What’s the point?” said Iwaizumi instead, keeping his harsher thoughts to himself. 

“To get to know each other better,” said Oikawa. “I know hardly anything about you, Iwa-chan. I don’t even know how old you are.”

“I’m twenty-eight. Anything else?”

Oikawa sighed into the phone. When he spoke again his voice was different, lacking its perpetual teasing lilt. “Come on, Iwaizumi, seriously. Let’s go get dinner. We’ll have a good time. I won’t even make fun of you, I promise.”

Iwaizumi sat back in his chair and stared blankly at a random point on the ceiling. Without that airy, carefree tone that annoyed the shit out of him, Oikawa sounded different. Almost like an actual human being instead of an overgrown child. 

“But why?” he asked again, still trying figure out Oikawa’s motive.

“I already told you. You’re part of the company now and I want to get to know you better. If you say yes I’ll stop talking.”

That made it more tempting.

“Dinner where?”

He could practically feel the brilliance of Oikawa’s smile through the phone.

“I knew you’d say yes!” said Oikawa, his serious voice fading back into his usual cheery tone. “Wherever you want to take me, Iwa-chan. I’m not picky.”

Iwaizumi seriously doubted that.

“Just come up to my office when you’re finished for the day,” said Oikawa. “I can leave whenever.”

Iwaizumi didn’t remember agreeing to go, but it seemed the decision had been made for him. He swallowed a sigh. “Fine.”

There was a brief pause, and then, “By the way, I’m only twenty-seven. You’re an old man, Iwa-chan! See you later!”

There was a click when Oikawa hung up, and Iwaizumi slammed his phone back onto the base with a scowl.

His life would’ve been easier if Oikawa had just fired him on the day of the restaurant incident.

  
  
  
At five-thirty Iwaizumi had dragged out the remainder of his work for as long as possible. He straightened up his files, wiped off his computer screen, and blew some dust away from his keyboard. Then he stood at the window for another couple of minutes, looking at the street beneath, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

He’d only been to the tenth floor on one prior occasion, and that was to sign paperwork in Ushijima’s office when he’d first been hired. He hadn’t ventured beyond that, and when he stepped off of the elevator, he wasn’t sure which way to go.

There were no cubicles on this floor. The offices were larger, so there was no open space in which to house other employees. Iwaizumi started forward cautiously, straining his hearing to try and pick up Oikawa’s voice. If he was speaking anywhere on the floor then Iwaizumi would be able to hear him. His voice carried like the plague.

He passed Ushijima’s office on his right. Inside he saw the VP sitting at his desk, so focused on his computer screen that he didn’t notice as Iwaizumi slipped past his door.

Iwaizumi briefly recalled what Hanamaki had said to him on his first day, after the restaurant incident with Oikawa. He’d said Oikawa had done something to Ushijima that had messed him up for weeks. They’d been interrupted at that point and Iwaizumi had never thought about it again, but suddenly he wanted to know.

He heard a thread of high, fake laughter, and started toward the sound.

He passed two more offices before he reached Oikawa’s, nestled in the back corner. The door was cracked open. Iwaizumi reached to knock, but hesitated when Oikawa started speaking.

“I understand quite clearly, Ito-san,” he said, his tone sickly-sweet. “Your business has been an asset to our company for years. My father and I have great respect for the work you’ve done.”

There was a pause; he was clearly on the phone.

Iwaizumi’s hand dropped back to his side and he held his breath, listening.

Oikawa made a sound that was supposed to be a laugh. “That’s funny, because I specifically recall a different conversation.” Something in his voice changed. It sharpened like a honed blade, slicing with brutal intensity. “In fact, now I recall that you actually promised that we would receive our share in five business days. As of today, it has been twelve. That’s twice what you promised, Ito-san, so forgive me if I’m getting a bit impatient.”

Another pause, another shift in Oikawa’s tone. Now it was positively toxic.

“If you were trying to pull this with my father,” said Oikawa, the words cutting like razor blades, “he would have already cut his ties with you. Don’t think that you will take advantage of me because of my youth, Ito-san. You should know me better than that. This is what I will do. You have until Monday. If we don’t see our share by then, then I promise that you will never do business in this city again. I will ruin you, Ito-san. And unlike you, I keep my promises. Are we clear?”

Iwaizumi was frozen outside the doorway, shocked. 

He’d never seen Oikawa become angry. He’d never even seen him in a bad mood. If this was how he reacted to bad situations, Iwaizumi hoped he would never be on the receiving end.

Now he realized why Hanamaki had been on the verge of panic when Iwaizumi had called out Oikawa at the curry restaurant.

Clearly Hanamaki knew what Oikawa was capable of.

The scariest part was when Oikawa spoke again. There was no hint that the black anger had even existed. His voice was light and airy, falling back into his typical annoying mannerisms. 

“Wonderful,” said Oikawa. “I certainly look forward to it. It was a pleasure as always, Ito-san. I’ll speak with you on Monday.”

Hanamaki had also told him that Oikawa didn’t do real work, that he was only given a title by the grace of his father.

Iwaizumi wasn’t so sure he’d been correct.

He took a breath and knocked on the door. It opened inward a couple of inches with the impact.

“Come in.”

Iwaizumi pushed the door open the rest of the way.

“Oh, Iwa-chan! I was just finishing up. I’ll be ready in one minute.” 

Oikawa smiled at him as if he hadn’t just threatened to destroy someone’s livelihood.

“Well hurry it up,” said Iwaizumi. “You said you could leave whenever. Let’s get this over with.”

Oikawa’s smile didn’t falter. “Rude as always, Iwa-chan.”

He typed a few notes into the computer, probably about the phone call Iwaizumi had eavesdropped on. While he waited, Iwaizumi scanned the interior of Oikawa’s office and finally understood why the emptiness of his own had been such a big deal.

He’d never seen a more elaborately decorated space. There were paintings, tapestries, and even some framed documents hanging on the walls. A leafy vine overflowed from the top of a fully-stocked bookshelf, multiple tendrils draping down to touch the intricate rug that covered half the floor. 

Iwaizumi just stared, astounded by the sophistication and simultaneously appalled at the pretentiousness. This décor belonged in someone’s home, maybe an apartment. Decorating an office like this was just too much.

“Okay,” said Oikawa after a moment. “I’m ready.” He pushed his chair back and threw his arms over his head, groaning as he stretched. Iwaizumi noticed that Oikawa had already removed his tie. The first two buttons of his short were popped open, revealing a flash of pale collarbone.

Oikawa stood and plucked his coat off of the rack. “Do you see the view from here, Iwa-chan?” he asked, gesturing toward his windows. “Much better than the seventh floor, don’t you think?”

“Looks the same to me,” Iwaizumi shrugged. “A little worse, if I’m being honest.”

“Sure, Iwa-chan, whatever you say. So where are you taking me?”

He slipped into his coat but didn’t move to rebutton his shirt. 

“I’m not taking you anywhere,” said Iwaizumi, still standing near the door with his arms crossed. “I was coerced into this.”

Oikawa laughed. “Stop pretending like you hate me,” he said, flicking at his bangs. “That act got old weeks ago.”

“I don’t know why you think I’m pretending.”

Oikawa crossed the office with that gait that belonged on a Paris runway. He tilted his head and smiled. “It’s obvious, Iwa-chan.” He pressed a finger into Iwaizumi's cheek, as if trying to coax him into smiling. “You like me.” 

He dropped his hand before Iwaizumi could swat it away.

“Let’s go, I’m starving!” He pranced out of the office and Iwaizumi followed him with a huff.

“I don’t like you,” he said. 

Oikawa easily ignored him.

The two of them walked toward the elevator, Oikawa voicing every thought that flitted through his mind. “I haven’t had ramen in a while, but I’m not really feeling it. Maybe sashimi? No, no… Oh, I know! I want yakitori. Is yakitori okay with you, Iwa-chan?”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

They passed by Ushijima’s door and Iwaizumi glanced inside. It was an automatic thing, to look into open doorways. 

He really wished he hadn’t.

Ushijima had finished up whatever he’d so diligently been working on. Apparently their voices had alerted him, because he was already looking out at them when they passed by. 

Iwaizumi liked Ushijima, but even he had to say that Ushijima was lacking when it came to expression. He was very stoic and serious, and didn’t tend to be very expressive.

When he caught sight of Iwaizumi with Oikawa, though, something definitely shifted in his face.

Iwaizumi couldn’t quite place the emotion, but something about it made his stomach sink.

“Bye-bye, Ushiwaka-chan!” said Oikawa, sweeping past as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Have a good night.”

Ushijima blinked and then his face returned to its usual hard planes. He nodded at Iwaizumi, who had unwittingly hesitated in front of the doorway. Iwaizumi forced himself to nod back before chasing after Oikawa, who was already almost at the elevator.

He thought again of what Hanamaki had said, and suddenly he wished he was nowhere near Oikawa Tooru.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I'll get a chance to update this weekend, so have an early chapter. Cheers!

Despite his wishes, Iwaizumi had already committed himself to bearing the burden of Oikawa’s presence during dinner, and could think of no feasible way to get himself out of it.

They walked down the street to one of Oikawa’s favorite restaurants, accompanied by idle conversation. Oikawa did most of the talking, which was fine with Iwaizumi. It had become easier and easier to tune him out.

“I said we’re here!” 

Oikawa yanked on Iwaizumi’s sleeve, pulling him to a stop. “Come on, Iwa-chan, weren’t you listening to me?”

Iwaizumi met his stare. “No.”

Oikawa huffed, and for a moment he looked genuinely hurt before he pulled his smirk back on. “Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to repeat all of that again.”

“Please don’t.”

Oikawa laughed and dragged Iwaizumi into the restaurant, still gripping the end of his sleeve. 

The restaurant wasn’t quite what Iwaizumi had expected. It had the atmosphere of a small diner, with low-lit booths and scattered customers engaged in quiet conversations. Oikawa stepped up to the small hostess counter and waited.

Exactly thirty seconds later, he ran out of patience.

“What are they doing?” he said, craning his neck to try and find an employee. “They should’ve seated us by now. This is so unprofessional.”

“Relax,” said Iwaizumi. “We just got here. Stop doing that, you look like a giraffe.”

“Ow!” said Oikawa, rubbing at his side where Iwaizumi had just jabbed an elbow. “That hurt, Iwa-chan. You shouldn’t be so mean to your boss!”

“Ushijima is my boss,” said Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “It’s my family’s company. I’m everyone’s boss. _Ya-hoo_ ~, hostess!”

He waved down a female dressed in all black, which was apparently the establishment’s dress code. 

She scuttled over, offering a smile for Oikawa despite his obnoxious greeting. “Hello there, sir. Sorry you had to wait. Can I get you a seat?”

“Yes, can we get one of the booths over there?” said Oikawa, pointing toward the most isolated corner. 

Iwaizumi just looked at him.

“Yes, sir, of course. Please follow me.”

A moment later they were seated and the woman turned a bright shade of red when Oikawa thanked her for her assistance. A few minutes later a waitress brought them drinks and collected their order before leaving them alone again.

“She was cute,” said Oikawa. He leaned over the table conspiratorially, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “I bet you could get her number, Iwa-chan.”

“I would rather not.”

“Why?”

“She’s not my type.”

Oikawa latched onto that statement like a leech. “Oooh, so what is your type then?”

Iwaizumi scanned the restaurant rather than look at him. “None of your business, Trashykawa. Besides, you’re the one she kept staring at. If she’s so cute then you get her number.”

Oikawa tilted his head, considering, before discarding the idea. “No, I don’t think so. I haven’t really been into girls lately.”

Iwaizumi choked on his water.

When he’d managed to sputter his way back to a normal rhythm of breathing, he found Oikawa staring at him.

“What’s wrong?” asked Oikawa innocently. “Was it something I said?”

“No,” said Iwaizumi, glaring at his glass of water. “I just swallowed wrong.”

“Sure, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa with a smirk.

Dinner continued without incident. They ate the yakitori that Oikawa insisted was the best, and Iwaizumi had to admit it wasn’t bad. He didn’t even find Oikawa as annoying as usual. It may have been because they were outside the office setting, but Iwaizumi thought it was because Oikawa was acting a little differently. He was still a bundle of wide smiles and stupid jokes, but every now and then he said something that wasn’t teasing or a backward insult. He talked about his college years, and about when he’d started working for his father. He talked about his nephew, who it was clear that he adored, and his sister who Oikawa clearly had some issues with. 

When he wasn’t just putting on a show, Oikawa seemed normal. 

Iwaizumi found himself not actively hating him.

When Oikawa had finished talking about himself he made Iwaizumi answer questions, too. Iwaizumi found himself telling Oikawa about his past job, and about why he’d applied to this one. He talked about the guys that worked for him, and how competent they were, and how lucky he was to have been given such good employees to supervise. He even caught himself talking about his family for a few minutes before he realized what he was doing and quickly changed the subject.

Oikawa Tooru was the last person that Iwaizumi wanted to share his personal life with.

What was he thinking?

A while later they stepped back onto the sidewalk. Oikawa was smiling and Iwaizumi was scowling.

“I told you not to buy my food, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Oikawa shrugged, unbothered by his attitude. “I don’t mind. After all, I’m much more financially capable of buying yakitori than you are.”

Iwaizumi internally cringed at the reminder of their first conversation, but apparently Oikawa thought it was hilarious. He laughed at Iwaizumi’s expense, a feather-light, genuine laughter. 

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi grumbled, trying not to look directly at him.

Oikawa slung an arm over his shoulders, still laughing. They started back toward the direction of the office building. Iwaizumi would have to take the bus home, but he assumed Oikawa either lived close enough to walk or had a car parked somewhere nearby. 

“You’re fun, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, breathless from laughing. “We should go out again.”

Iwaizumi huffed but said nothing. He wanted to spit a scathing insult but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Spending the evening with Oikawa hadn’t been the worst decision of his life. Oikawa was okay sometimes, he supposed. 

He was never going to tell him that, though.

Iwaizumi didn’t realize until they reached the front entrance of the office that Oikawa’s arm was still resting across his shoulders. He shrugged him off and put a step of distance between them.

Oikawa didn’t appear insulted. “Well I’m going up to finish a few more things before I head home,” he said. 

“Whatever,” said Iwaizumi. He started to walk away but added, almost grudgingly, “Thanks for dinner, Trashykawa.”

Oikawa practically glowed. “You’re welcome, Iwa-chan. It was fun.” 

Before Iwaizumi could react, Oikawa swooped closer and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He pulled back with a smile and said, “Have a good night, Iwa-chan. See you tomorrow!”

Iwaizumi could only stare blankly as Oikawa entered the building and vanished beyond the mirrored doors. 

His mind was full of static again.

He realized he’d just gone on a date with Oikawa and hadn’t even known.

He’d gone on a _date_ with _Oikawa_.

And he hated to admit it, but it wasn’t the absolute worst first date he’d ever had.

In the past, though, at least he’d always _known_ it was a date.

He was so caught up in the epiphany that he didn’t notice someone else exit the building and approach him with a wide, knowing grin.

“Ohoho?” 

Iwaizumi glanced up, snapped out of his daze, and found Kuroo Tetsurou leering down at him.

He realized with a jolt that Kuroo had witnessed… whatever that had been between him and Oikawa.

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” he said immediately, dispelling any rumors before they could begin to brew in Kuroo’s brain.

Kuroo’s raised eyebrows suggested he was not buying into Iwaizumi’s denial.

“We just went out to dinner because Oikawa wouldn’t shut up,” he continued. “That was it.”

“I go out to dinner with Ushijima all the time and he’s never kissed me goodbye,” said Kuroo, smug. “Maybe I should try harder.”

Iwaizumi slapped a hand over his face and pretended his cheeks weren’t on fire.

“I couldn’t stop him,” he said, voice muffled by his palm. “You know how he is. You can’t tell him anything.”

“I know exactly how he is,” said Kuroo. “I’ve worked with him for three years and have planned to murder him in approximately sixty-five different ways. Oikawa is a disgusting human being who would flirt with a fire hydrant, but he doesn’t hand out actual physical affection to just anyone. He’s selective, and apparently you’ve been selected. Congratulations.”

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut. If he just dropped dead there on the sidewalk, his life would be so much easier. “How do I make him stop?”

“Well first you have to actually want him to stop,” said Kuroo, “and I don’t think you do.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, why would I-”

“Oho, hold up, Iwaizumi. You have to stop blushing before I can take anything you say seriously.”

“I’m not blushing!” Iwaizumi snapped, aware it was a blatant lie. 

Kuroo just continued to smirk at him. It was maddening.

“I’m not interested in Oikawa,” said Iwaizumi. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. He’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life.”

Kuroo’s face didn’t change.

“Stop looking at me like that!” Iwaizumi snapped. “I don’t like Oikawa!”

“He certainly likes you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s just trying to annoy me to death and he’s halfway there.”

Kuroo smirked more widely and leaned closer. “You sure didn’t look annoyed when he kissed you.”

Iwaizumi felt his face heat up all over again.

He buried his face in his hand again, just so he wouldn’t have to see Kuroo looking at him like that.

Kuroo clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You’re fucked,” Kuroo stated simply. “Good luck.”

Iwaizumi had nothing to say to that. He merged into the crowd of people bustling about the street, walked to the bus stop, and tried his best not to think about Oikawa Tooru. 

To his great chagrin, he thought about him anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra mid-week update, anyone?

The following week passed without incident. Oikawa continued to harass Iwaizumi daily, incessantly complaining about his attitude and rudeness and lack of plant parenting skills. Iwaizumi snapped back biting comments while Oikawa watered the plants and rotated them so they would grow evenly.

No mention was made of their dinner together aside from Oikawa reminiscing about the deliciousness of the yakitori. He didn’t mention the chaste, fleeting kiss, and Iwaizumi certainly said nothing about it.

He certainly hadn’t thought about it at least three times per day, either.

Iwaizumi did, occasionally, catch Oikawa looking at him with something he labeled as quiet expectation. When Iwaizumi called him on it, Oikawa brushed off the inquiry with a breezy statement about how he’s just trying to figure out how Iwaizumi can frown so much and not develop wrinkles.

During that week, Iwaizumi found himself going through an acute personal crisis. Even after the conversation with Kuroo, he continued to silently insist that he felt nothing whatsoever for Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa wasn't so much of a human being as a person-shaped pain in Iwaizumi’s ass. He couldn't imagine how anyone could develop feelings for that idiot. 

A couple days later, when Iwaizumi found himself watching with a dash of fondness as Oikawa hung a decorative calendar on the otherwise barren wall of Iwaizumi’s office, he wondered if maybe he could be lying to himself by a small degree.

A day or two after that, when Oikawa threw his head back and laughed at something Iwaizumi had definitely not intended to be a joke, Iwaizumi felt a twinge in his chest that couldn't possibly be healthy. He thought about visiting a physician. Any diagnosis would be better than what he suspected was happening.

At the end of that week Iwaizumi reached a point where he had to admit to himself that he was, as Kuroo had so bluntly stated, _fucked_. He reached this realization when the elevator stalled on their floor, the doors slid open, and he caught himself holding his breath in quiet expectation, only to feel a surge of disappointment when the visitor to their floor was just an intern delivering the mail.

Iwaizumi put his head down on his desk and practiced deep breathing to keep himself from screaming in self-frustration.

A light tap at his open door drew him back to reality.

“Umm, Iwaizumi-san?” It was Hanamaki, eyeing his supervisor’s slouched form with clear concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” said Iwaizumi, straightening in his chair and pretending he wasn't on the verge of a mental breakdown. “Do you need something?”

Hanamaki stepped into the office, a sheaf of paperwork in hand. 

It was impressive how quickly their roles had been reversed, once Iwaizumi had learned the company’s proper procedures. He had slipped into the authoritative role easily, though he did occasionally rely on Hanamaki when a new situation arose with which he hadn’t yet been confronted. 

“I need a few signatures from you,” said Hanamaki, placing the papers in front of Iwaizumi. “It’s for purchasing orders, before we send them up to financial.”

“Of course,” said Iwaizumi. “I assume you already double-checked everything?”

“Yes. Feel free to check again, though.”

Iwaizumi flipped to the back of the pages and scrawled his signature in the appropriate areas. “No need,” he said. “I trust you.”

Hanamaki nodded in silent acknowledgment of the compliment. 

When Iwaizumi was finished, he pushed the paperwork back toward Hanamaki. “Could you go ahead and take it up to Kuroo-san? I know he likes to have all of these turned in before noon.”

“Of course, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Thank you.”

Iwaizumi looked at his computer screen and tried to remember what he’d been doing before the elevator had arrived and scattered his thoughts.

A spreadsheet was on the screen, lined with dates and figures and percentages. He blinked a few times, focused on the work, and tried to pack away his own problems in a nondescript corner of his mind, where they wouldn’t be a distraction. Distantly he heard the elevator doors as Hanamaki left for the ninth floor. 

He started typing numbers into the empty slots, mouse clicking occasionally as he adjusted the columns. He’d started this report the day before and needed to finish it by Friday. He had plenty of time, but it was best to get it done as quickly as possible. Iwaizumi had never been a procrastinator and he didn’t intend to start now.

“Iwa-chan!”

The voice was nearly a shout from his office door. Iwaizumi startled so violently that he banged a knee against the underside of his desk. 

He slapped a hand against his desk with a curse, glaring at Oikawa with laser intensity.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Oikawa blinked at him, all eyelashes and innocence. “I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

Iwaizumi ground his teeth together. He felt like he should check his knee for a bruise but didn’t want Oikawa to think he’d gotten to him.

Over Oikawa’s shoulder, he saw Kunimi poke his head above the wall of his cubicle, smirking at Iwaizumi’s expense. 

“Shut the door if you’re coming in,” said Iwaizumi. He looked away from Oikawa and back at his computer, pretending he was still absorbed in work.

Oikawa did as he was told. The blinds were closed, so if Iwaizumi’s employees continued to make fun of him, at least he didn’t have to witness it.

Oikawa circled the desk and stood over Iwaizumi’s shoulder, watching him work. After a moment he leaned over, his breath ruffling the top of Iwaizumi’s hair as he pointed at the screen.

“I think you got that percentage wrong. Shouldn’t it be point oh-two?”

“No, Shittykawa. I’m using this formula,” said Iwaizumi, pointing out a twist of numbers at the corner of the screen. “Can you back up? I can’t concentrate.”

The proximity itself was distracting enough, but when Oikawa leaned over him Iwaizumi caught a whiff of cologne that was probably more expensive than a month of his rent. It was borderline intoxicating.

“You’re grumpy today, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa. He circled back to the front of the desk and plopped down in one of the padded chairs facing Iwaizumi. 

“I’m like this every day. It’s just my personality.”

From the corner of his eye, Iwaizumi saw Oikawa grin.

“At least you’re being honest with yourself,” he said. “That’s the first step to improvement, Iwa-chan.”

“I don’t need to improve. I’m fine as I am.”

“And you always call _me_ self-centered.”

“You’re the most self-centered human I’ve ever met.”

“Very grumpy, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi huffed under his breath. He was still tapping keys, but he no longer knew exactly what he was doing. He would have to go back and fix all these mistakes later. Right now his mind was one place and one place only, and that was the long, lean body draped in the chair facing him. 

After they’d gone to dinner the week before, Oikawa had said they should go out again. Since then, however, he’d made no mention of doing anything of the sort. Iwaizumi hated to admit that he’d been waiting for another invitation, and at this point he was wondering if he’d done something to make Oikawa change his mind.

If he’d messed up too badly, though, Oikawa wouldn’t have still been trespassing in his office on a daily basis. There was no other reason for him to be on the seventh floor. It was clear that he came there for the sole person of speaking to Iwaizumi.

It was that awareness that prompted Iwaizumi to speak, despising every word that came out of his own mouth. “Do you have plans for lunch, Trashykawa?”

He didn’t look up as he asked, but he could almost feel Oikawa’s surprise.

“Not yet,” said Oikawa. He scooted his chair closer and propped his elbows on the desk, smiling at Iwaizumi. “Why do you ask, Iwa-chan?’

Iwaizumi was torn between asking him out and shoving him off of his desk. 

He made the mistake of maintaining eye contact for more than three seconds, and after that the words slipped out without his consent.

“Let’s go get some curry across the street,” said Iwaizumi. “My treat. I owe you one.”

Oikawa’s smile was sunshine-bright. “Of course, Iwa-chan! I thought you’d never ask.”

Iwaizumi almost wished he hadn’t.

But at the same time, part of him was thrilled that he hadn’t been turned down.

“I’ll meet you downstairs at twelve,” said Iwaizumi. “We can walk over together.”

“Sounds perfect. Since you’re buying, I’ll order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

“And suddenly I’ve changed my mind.”

They bantered back and forth for a moment, another routine argument about nothing of importance. By now it was familiar for Iwaizumi, almost comforting. 

And Oikawa was adorable when he pouted at Iwaizumi’s particularly sharp comments. 

“Maybe I don’t want to go out with you after all,” said Oikawa a few minutes later, when Iwaizumi had managed a jab at his wardrobe.

“Of course you do. Now get out of here so I can get something done. I’ll see you at twelve.”

Oikawa gave in with a dramatic sigh. He rolled his eyes and stood, tossing his bangs out of his eyes before crossing to the door. “Fine, Iwa-chan. Maybe you’ll be less grumpy by lunchtime.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“So mean.”

Oikawa left his office with a wave of his fingers and a wink, which Iwaizumi told himself meant nothing. He’d seen Oikawa wink in a multitude of situations. It didn’t mean he was flirting.

If he was, though, Iwaizumi wouldn’t exactly complain about it.

About ten minutes after Oikawa had boarded the elevator for the tenth floor, Iwaizumi had again laid his head on his desk, wondering exactly what he’d done.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now he had to deal with the fact that he’d just asked Oikawa Tooru on a lunch date.

Fucked. He was absolutely fucked.

There was another rap on his door. He didn’t even look up.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Hanamaki was back again, likely finished with his errand. “There’s a cheap clinic down the street. They’ll check you out if you think something’s wrong.”

There was definitely something wrong, but it wasn’t something that a clinic could fix.

“I’m fine, Hanamaki. Really.”

Iwaizumi managed to pull himself together and made it through the remainder of the morning without incident. His success was primarily because he convinced himself that, even though he’d technically asked Oikawa on a date, it was only a lunch date. That was much different than a dinner date. There were no romantic expectations, no concerns about what to do once the evening had concluded. After they ate they would return to work and that would be it. 

Oikawa may not have even thought of it as a date. Iwaizumi hadn’t exactly been romantic when asking him. It had sounded more like a quick lunch between friends. Maybe Iwaizumi should’ve been more direct and asked him to dinner on Saturday, when it would be clear that there were different expectations.

But he’d barely managed to ask him to lunch. Bringing up something like dinner on a weekend wasn’t exactly feasible. 

When noon arrived Iwaizumi was waiting for the elevator, tapping an erratic rhythm onto the floor with the toe of his shoe. His employees weren’t quite as eager to escape. They were huddled around Kindaichi’s office, laughing about a joke that Iwaizumi hadn’t been let in on. 

He suspected it may have been about him.

The door slid open and Iwaizumi stepped inside. He’d half expected to see Oikawa already waiting on him with that dumb, perfect smile on his face, but the car was empty except for the company’s VP.

“Hello, Ushijima-san,” said Iwaizumi, nodding as he boarded.

“Iwaizumi. I trust everything is still going well.”

“Very well, thank you.”

The descent was made in silence. Iwaizumi watched the floor numbers trickle down: six, five, four…

At three a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and Iwaizumi looked up, startled.

Ushijima frowned down at him, face more serious than usual.

“You’re a good man, Iwaizumi,” he said. “I respect you and your work.”

Iwaizumi blinked several times, confused. “Umm, thank you?”

Ushijima’s stare intensified as they reached the first floor and the elevator dinged.

“Be careful with Oikawa,” he warned, squeezing Iwaizumi’s shoulder for emphasis. 

Then the doors slid open, Ushijima stepped out, and Iwaizumi was left to stare dumbly after him.

Be careful with him? What was that supposed to mean?

He took a cautious step onto the landing and immediately spotted Oikawa standing a few yards away. 

“Iwa-chan!” he said, waving Iwaizumi over. “You’re three minutes late. That’s not very courteous.”

Iwaizumi said nothing. He looked toward the front doors, where Ushijima was now stepping out onto the sidewalk.

There was a tug on his sleeve. “You look weird, Iwa-chan. Are you in a better mood now?”

Iwaizumi turned his head to meet Oikawa’s expectant gaze.

“I’m not sure,” said Iwaizumi. “Are you less annoying now?”

Oikawa protested in a loud whine and everything was normal. Still, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but turn over Ushijima’s words in the back of his head, wondering why he’d bothered with the vague warning. Had he meant that Oikawa was someone who needed to be treated carefully?

Or had he meant that Iwaizumi needed to tread carefully for his own sake?


	6. Chapter 6

They crossed the street to the restaurant, and in the three minutes that it took to arrive, Iwaizumi grew concerned that his ears would be eaten away by frostbite.

He didn’t complain, though. 

Oikawa complained enough for the both of them.

“It’s _freezing_!” Oikawa said as they stepped into the sanctity of the curry restaurant. His arms were folded tightly over his chest, shoulders hunched up nearly to his ears. “How is it so cold? I can’t live like this. Humans can’t survive under these conditions.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” said Iwaizumi. His tucked his hands in his pockets so Oikawa wouldn’t see his fingers shaking from the extreme temperature. 

“I’m a king if anything,” Oikawa scoffed. 

For a moment it was quiet. Iwaizumi should have been suspicious.

Then ice cold fingers plunged beneath Iwaizumi’s collar and latched onto the back of his neck.

Iwaizumi yelped and swatted Oikawa away, nearly tripping over a nearby chair as he tried to escape.

“Get the fuck off me, Shittykawa!”

Oikawa laughed madly. The spectacle drew the stares of everyone in the immediate vicinity and Iwaizumi pretended not to notice the nosy audience.

“Come on,” Iwaizumi grumbled, starting toward the counter. “At least curry is warm.”

“So are you, Iwa-chan. Just hold my hands for a few minutes until I can feel my fingers again.”

Iwaizumi pointedly kept himself from thinking too hard about that.

“You have pockets. Use them.”

Oikawa opened his mouth, probably to continue whining, but then his eyes skirted the line of waiting customers.

“Look, it’s Dai-chan from the fifth floor!” he said, pointing toward the front of the line. “Come on, Iwa-chan, let’s just go up there and-”

“No,” Iwaizumi said flatly, seizing Oikawa’s sleeve before he could step away. “We’re not cutting line.”

“Dai-chan doesn’t care! Look, he’s with Refreshing-kun. We’ll just squeeze in and-”

“No.”

“It’s not a big deal, we ju-”

“ _No_. I don’t care how important you think you are, Trashykawa. You’re not too good to stand in line like everyone else. Now shut up and wait.”

Oikawa huffed like he was annoyed, but his expression wasn’t quite convincing.

He scowled across the restaurant for a moment before turning back to Iwaizumi and resuming the conversation as if they hadn’t argued at all.

A few minutes later when they had meandered their way up to the front of the line, the woman behind the counter did a double take upon seeing Oikawa.

“Oikawa-san!” she said, immediately plastering on a bright smile. “Welcome. What can I get for you today?”

Oikawa placed his order with a smug grin. When he was finished, he dragged Iwaizumi a step closer and said, “Put his order on my tab, too.”

“Of course, Oikawa-san.”

“Thank you, Yu-chan,” said Oikawa with a wink. 

A light pink flush colored the woman’s cheeks.

“I told you I was buying,” said Iwaizumi. “You’re not-”

“Just order, Iwa-chan. You’re holding up the line.”

He wanted to argue, but Oikawa was right. 

Iwaizumi placed his order with a scowl and sullenly followed Oikawa to the other end of the counter to pick up their food. 

“Don’t be so grumpy,” said Oikawa, once they’d taken a seat at a small table. “My father put a lot of money into this place’s startup. Seijoh owns practically fifty percent of the business. I always eat for free.”

There was an entire host of snide comments that Iwaizumi could have come back with. Instead he settled for, “That’s not the point. It was my turn to buy you a meal. Now I still owe you.”

Oikawa’s face lit up. “That’s okay, Iwa-chan. You can take me out to dinner this weekend and we’ll be even.”

Iwaizumi paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, eyes fixed on Oikawa. Earlier that day he’d been intimidated by the idea of asking Oikawa to do anything outside of work hours because it would have been a blatant invitation for a date. 

Was Oikawa asking him on a date, then? An actual date, not just a grab-food-after-work date? 

Or was Iwaizumi reading too much into this?

The bright expression on Oikawa’s face dimmed. “I mean,” he said, suddenly hesitant, “it was only a suggestion. You don’t have to.” 

There was a flicker of doubt in Oikawa’s eyes, something that Iwaizumi never thought he would see. It softened Oikawa’s features and made him look so damn captivating. “Sure,” said Iwaizumi, relieving the awkward atmosphere. “I’m free Saturday night. I’ll take you wherever you’d like.”

Oikawa brightened again, this time with surprise. “Really, Iwa-chan?”

“As long as you don’t want to go anywhere too fancy. Unfortunately my father isn’t a millionaire like yours.”

Oikawa brushed off that comment and started into a rant about all of his favorite restaurants, vividly detailing his favorite dishes and desserts and drinks. Iwaizumi just watched him talk, steadily making his way through his plate. 

When he was excited about something, Oikawa’s eyes were so bright that they could have rivaled the sun. Oikawa leaned forward slightly, gesturing with his hands for emphasis, chopsticks flailing in a loose grip. 

It was obvious to anyone looking that Oikawa was attractive. Iwaizumi had known that from their first encounter. 

There was a difference between knowing someone was attractive and being attracted to them, though, and Iwaizumi found himself slowly slipping into the latter category. 

It was impossible not to be drawn in when the light filtered in from the window, casting rosy shadows on the planes of Oikawa’s face and shifting in his hair’s subtle hues of copper and bronze. 

Oikawa was beautiful, and he knew it, and Iwaizumi was absolutely _fucked_.

“Well it’s your decision,” said Iwaizumi when Oikawa paused for breath. He looked down at his food because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stare at Oikawa without bursting into flame. “Just let me know when you choose.”

“What kind of food do you like?”

“I’ll eat anything,” Iwaizumi replied honestly. “Just pick whatever you’d like.”

Oikawa fell into a rare moment of silence. He propped his chin in his hand and looked out the window, at the people milling about on the street beyond.

Iwaizumi tried not to stare at his profile.

He failed.

Lunch continued without incident. The two of them walked back to the office together, enduring another burst of cold that resulted in another cacophony of Oikawa’s complaints. 

They stepped into the vacant elevator together, where Oikawa continued to insist that he was never going to regain the feeling in his fingers again. He waggled them in front of Iwaizumi’s face, insisting that they were turning blue from frostbite.

Iwaizumi set his jaw and clapped his own hands around Oikawa’s, pressing them close between his palms. 

Oikawa’s fingers really were cold. 

But the heat on Iwaizumi’s face could have thawed an iceberg. 

Oikawa looked down at his hands, squeezed between Iwaizumi’s. He smiled, but it wasn’t the smug smirk that Iwaizumi had grown to expect. It was softer, more genuine, and Iwaizumi’s mouth went dry.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa quietly.

“Whatever,” Iwaizumi mumbled. “Anything to shut you up.”

Oikawa didn’t take offense. 

When the elevator stopped at the seventh floor, Iwaizumi dropped Oikawa’s hands and stepped out. 

“Bye-bye, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, waving with his freshly-warmed fingers. “I’ll talk to you soon!”

Iwaizumi didn’t acknowledge him. He walked toward his office, aware of the six sets of eyes that followed his progress. When he reached the door he turned on his heel and five of the heads popped out of sight. Only Hanamaki remained, looking back at him shamelessly.

“Did you have a nice lunch, Iwaizumi-san?” he asked, expression unchanging.

There was a muffled snicker from somewhere. It sounded suspiciously like Kunimi.

“I just want you all to remember,” said Iwaizumi loudly, “that I do have the authority to fire every single one of you.”

The laughter stopped. 

Iwaizumi turned his back on them and stepped into his office, fighting his own smile. He’d gotten to know his new employees fairly well, but they clearly didn’t know him quite well enough to determine when he was and was not being serious. 

Iwaizumi had never fired anyone unless he’d had absolutely no other choice. He wasn’t going to punish his employees for finding his interactions with Oikawa amusing. If their situations were reversed, he would’ve found the circumstances amusing, too.

He sat at his desk and tried to rein in his focus. He had a significant amount of work to complete that afternoon and couldn’t afford any distractions.

Five minutes after he sat down, his desk phone rang. He answered it with an automatic, “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “You do that on purpose, Iwa-chan.”

Of course it was Oikawa. Iwaizumi hadn’t been forced to listen to his voice for seven entire minutes. 

“Do what on purpose?”

“That voice,” said Oikawa. “The phone voice, Iwa-chan. It’s too much.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“I decided where I want to eat,” said Oikawa. “Will you pick me up Saturday at seven?”

Iwaizumi hesitated. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. “I don’t have a car.”

“Oh, I’ll pick you up then!”

“No. Just tell me which restaurant and I’ll meet you there.”

“But Iwa-chan-”

“ _Where_ , Oikawa?”

Oikawa sighed loudly into the phone before giving in. Iwaizumi appreciated his choice; it was classy, but not so much that it would empty Iwaizumi’s wallet.

“Fine,” said Iwaizumi. “I’ll meet you there at seven, then.”

“Okay, Iwa-chan,” sang Oikawa. “I can’t wait for our date!”

Before Iwaizumi could respond Oikawa had already ended the call. 

Iwaizumi held the phone still pressed to his ear for a moment. Slowly he returned it to the cradle, wondering if Oikawa had meant the word “date” in the literal sense. It had certainly sounded like it. 

So this one was official, then. He could write off their past two experiences as innocent, but this was a premeditated date. 

He was planning an honest-to-god date with Oikawa Tooru.

He realized he was actually _smiling_.

Iwaizumi wiped the traitorous expression off of his face and focused on his work. If he kept allowing himself to get distracted he was going to fall behind.

Maybe this was Oikawa’s revenge, after all. He was going to keep distracting Iwaizumi until he got fired. It was all an elaborate plot for vengeance.

But when Oikawa had looked at him on the elevator, with his cold fingers trapped between Iwaizumi’s palms, there hadn’t been a trace of menace on his perfectly crafted face. 

For some reason that Iwaizumi couldn’t fathom, Oikawa really did like him. He didn’t understand why. Iwaizumi had never been a creature of social aptitude. He was stiff and serious and often easily annoyed. 

It was probably just because he was new at the company. Oikawa would get bored of him soon and move on to greener pastures.

Iwaizumi pretended the thought didn’t hurt him at all.


	7. Chapter 7

The restaurant Oikawa had chosen specialized in Italian food. It was in the nicer part of town, not all that far from Seijoh. It was classy enough to require reservations, which Iwaizumi had made Friday morning from his office. He doubted someone like Oikawa would even think about the need to make reservations since he was apparently accustomed to having everything handed to him.

Iwaizumi checked his watch. It was six fifty-five. He stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, coat buttoned against the cold, face growing numb beneath the cut of the evening wind. The sun had already set and the only light was the artificial glow of the city, burning brightly from streetlamps and windows and headlights. 

Iwaizumi always thought the nighttime cityscape was beautiful, but it was easier to appreciate when he wasn’t freezing his balls off. 

At just a minute before seven, a sleek black car pulled up to the front of the restaurant. Oikawa stepped out with the presence of a celebrity, flipping his hair and handing off his keys to a waiting valet. 

Iwaizumi tried not to stare.

He tucked his hands more deeply into his pockets and braced himself for a loud, obnoxious greeting of _Iwa-chan_!

Instead, Oikawa drew closer quietly, offering a subdued smile. “Good evening, Iwaizumi-san.” His voice was low, in both volume and pitch. If the words hadn’t been so out of character, the voice may have been appealing.

This version of Oikawa was absolutely charming. He was calm, polite, and dressed immaculately. He would’ve been anyone’s dream date.

But it wasn’t really Oikawa.

“What’s wrong with you?” snapped Iwaizumi, scowling. 

Oikawa blinked at him with an air of innocence. “Oh? What do you mean, Iwaizumi-san?”

“Stop it. You’re creeping me out.”

“You always say I’m annoying,” said Oikawa. His mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. “I’m just trying to be likeable.”

“It doesn’t matter how hard you try, Trashykawa. You’re never going to be likeable, so just stop.”

Oikawa laughed off the insult, face splitting into a more familiar grin. “I knew you didn’t really think I’m annoying, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi found himself relaxing a little at the sound of the ridiculous nickname. 

“Of course you are,” he said. “I’m just used to it by now. Let’s go inside, I’m freezing my ass off waiting for you.”

“Sorry, Iwa-chan. The traffic was awful.”

“It’s fine. Come on.”

The two of them sought refuge in the warmth of the restaurant. The hostess saw to them immediately, saving Oikawa the trouble of hunting someone down. She confirmed the reservation and sat them at a table for two. Iwaizumi wondered if he was supposed to pull out Oikawa’s chair for him, but thought that might be excessive. 

He shed his coat and draped it across the back of his seat. There was probably a coat rack somewhere but he wasn’t concerned enough to go looking. He sat down, reached for the menu, and realized Oikawa was staring at him.

“What?”

Oikawa tilted his head slightly. “Is that a new suit?”

Iwaizumi looked down at himself. “No? I’ve had it for a while.”

“You’ve never worn it to the office.”

“It’s a little too formal for work.”

Oikawa smirked. “So you dressed up for me. So sweet, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi scowled down at the menu and ignored him.

He hadn’t failed to notice, though, that Oikawa had also dressed quite nicely.

After ordering, they sipped red wine while waiting for their food, carrying an easy conversation that mostly revolved around Seijoh. It was the one thing they had in common, and the easiest to discuss.

“If Makki-chan had applied for the promotion,” said Oikawa, “you wouldn’t have gotten the job. He was the obvious first choice but he said he wasn’t ready for the responsibility.” Oikawa rolled his eyes and took another sip of wine. “It’s a shame. He just doesn’t have the ambition necessary to succeed. It worked out for the best, though. I’d rather have you there, Iwa-chan.”

“Only so you can have someone new to torture,” said Iwaizumi flatly. “I think you like to watch me suffer.”

“Not true. I’m just trying to make your work day less dull.” He smirked at Iwaizumi over his wine glass. “I’m adding spice to your life.”

“Well we’re not at work now,” Iwaizumi pointed out. “What’s your excuse for this?”

Oikawa shrugged. “You’re the one who offered to buy me dinner.”

“You forced me into it.”

“Do you regret it?”

Iwaizumi studied Oikawa for a long moment. “No,” he finally said, surprisingly honest. “I guess you’re not so bad, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa’s smile was divine.

They chatted and bickered over their food, and when the meal ended, both of them reached for the check.

Iwaizumi slapped Oikawa away and took it, glaring at him from across the table. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m trying to be nice!” said Oikawa, cradling his hand against his chest. “Don’t be so mean to me.”

“Shut up,” said Iwaizumi. He shifted forward and slipped his wallet out of his back pocket. “I owe you for two meals.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to take me to dinner again.”

“Don’t be stupid. This probably costs more than both of those lunches combined.” 

Iwaizumi slid a credit card into the check book and flipped it closed. He perched it on the corner of the table nearest him, so Oikawa couldn’t snatch at it. 

“Okay then,” said Oikawa, agreeing easily. “Then I guess I owe you another meal then.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“So you don’t want to go out again?”

Iwaizumi looked up at him. Was Oikawa really asking him for another date?

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you do?”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined, pouting across the table at him. “Has anyone ever told you how impossible you are?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ve heard that a few times.”

“I’m being serious!” said Oikawa. “I have no idea what’s going on in your head. You always have the same mean look on your face. I can’t even tell if you’re having a good time or not.”

“If I wasn’t I would’ve left already.”

“And you’re always mean so I can’t tell if you even like me or not. Do you even like me, Iwa-chan? Even a little bit?”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would I like someone who harasses me on a daily basis?”

Oikawa seemed to deflate a little. 

Iwaizumi lightly kicked him beneath the table.

“You’re not the worst date I’ve ever had,” said Iwaizumi, snapping Oikawa out of his personal pity party. 

“Am I the best?”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Top five?”

Iwaizumi pretended to consider. “Top ten, maybe. I can’t be sure. The date isn’t over yet.”

And there he was, throwing out the word “date” as if it was perfectly normal to go on a date with Oikawa Tooru, the boss’s son. 

They left shortly after, emerging back into the arctic cold. Oikawa linked his arm with Iwaizumi’s and shivered against his shoulder as they waited for the valet to retrieve Oikawa’s car.

When Iwaizumi tried to pull away to head toward the bus stop, Oikawa refused to let go.

“You’ll freeze to death!” he insisted. “I’ll drive you. My car has heated seats.”

It did indeed, and ten minutes later Iwaizumi’s ass was warm and toasty. 

They crawled through the Saturday night traffic at a slow pace. Oikawa drove with one hand on the wheel, using the other to gesture along with whatever nonsense spewed out of his mouth as he spoke. Iwaizumi watched him from the corner of his eye.

“We should go do something else!” said Oikawa. “It’s still early. We can go to a show or a movie or something. What do you want to do?”

Iwaizumi checked the time. It was almost nine already. “It’s too late to get tickets to anything now. There’s not really anything to do unless you want to go to a bar, and I grew out of my club stage several years ago.”

“Oh right, I forgot,” said Oikawa, throwing a sly glance in his direction. “You’re an old man.”

“You’re literally one year younger than me.”

“I’ll be young forever, Iwa-chan. I started botox when I turned seventeen.”

Iwaizumi snorted, then started laughing in earnest. Oikawa laughed along with him, coming to a neat stop at a red light. 

“I’m joking, of course,” Oikawa clarified. “My good looks are all natural.”

“I don’t know how you haven’t drowned in all that conceit, Shittykawa.”

“Whatever, Iwa-chan. You can say what you want, but you already admitted you like me.”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“It was implied. Top ten dates, remember?”

“I said I wasn’t sure,” Iwaizumi reminded him. “I can’t confirm that until the night is over.”

“Well I guess now is the time,” said Oikawa. He pulled through the red light and slowed in front of a stacked apartment building. He steered the car over into the “No Parking” zone, blatantly disregarding the diagonal yellow lines on the pavement. “Is this the right place?”

Iwaizumi peered out the window. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “This is it. Thanks for the ride.”

He reached for the door but Oikawa grabbed his coat sleeve. “Wait. Top ten or not?”

Iwaizumi turned his head. Oikawa had leaned over to reach him and was now a little too close. He couldn’t quite feel the heat of Oikawa’s breath, but if he’d moved any closer he would have.

Iwaizumi shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It was okay, I guess. There was nothing really memorable about it, though.”

Oikawa’s frown put a deep crease between his brows. If he held that expression for very long he would definitely need those botox injections.

“You’re impossible, Iwa-chan,” he said. His voice was low, nearly a whisper. Oikawa shifted a little closer, his grip still tight on Iwaizumi’s sleeve. His eyes were bright, beseeching. “Come here.”

Iwaizumi understood what he was doing. He was offering Iwaizumi a chance to brush him off, to go up to his apartment and call it a night and not have to worry about any of this ever again. He was giving Iwaizumi an out, and he was half-tempted to take it.

Instead he leaned across the center console and met Oikawa halfway.

Their lips pressed together gently, tentatively. Both of them held their breath, as if waiting for rejection. When neither protested, the press became firmer. Iwaizumi moved his mouth against Oikawa’s and found one of his hands floating to brush against the side of Oikawa’s face, smoothing along his cheekbone. He pulled back and they looked at each other, mouths slightly open, a touch of surprise reflected in both expressions.

Oikawa tasted sweet. Iwaizumi touched his tongue to his own lips, as if seeking that taste. Oikawa followed the quick movement with his eyes.

“Fine,” said Iwaizumi, trying to sound gruff. “Top ten.”

Oikawa smiled, sharp and seductive. “If you invite me up to your apartment it’ll be number one.”

Iwaizumi ignored the jolt of heat that twisted his insides. “Goodnight, Oikawa,” he said. He pushed the car door open and stepped into the cold.

“Night night, Iwa-chan.” He leaned over to wave at Iwaizumi. “I’ll see you soon!”

Iwaizumi went up to his apartment alone. He couldn’t help thinking how nice a warm body would have been on a night like this, but sending Oikawa away had been the right decision. He hadn’t even expected to kiss him. Going beyond that would have definitely been a mistake.

Still, kissing him had been nice. He wouldn’t mind doing it again.

Oikawa had said he’d see him soon. Iwaizumi assumed that “soon” meant Monday, when they were both back at work. 

He’d never looked forward to a Monday so much in his entire life. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the point in the story where I decided I should probably start incorporating some kind of plot, so that's mostly what this chapter is. Sorry if it's a little heavier than usual. (^^;)

The following week, Iwaizumi questioned his decision to work for Seijoh for the first time.

It was only Tuesday, and he already felt as if he’d worked for a solid month without a day off. He sat with his elbows on his desk, forehead cradled in his palms, listening with increasing frustration to a man he wouldn’t mind strangling.

“…are only the most obvious foreseeable problems.” The voice filled his office, filtering from his phone’s speaker. “As you can see, there are many more issues than you’re taking into account, Iwaiyama-san.”

Iwaizumi took a deep breath before speaking. “It’s Iwaizumi.”

He wondered if this man knew how lucky he was that they weren’t having this conversation face to face.

“Right, Iwaizumi. Anyway…”

There was a commotion from beyond his office. The blinds were drawn, but he heard Hanamaki’s raised voice, muffled by the closed door.

“-on a call! You can’t just barge in!”

He was blatantly ignored. The door was pulled open and Oikawa stood in the doorway, his signature grin in place. 

Hanamaki stood over his shoulder, shaking his head desperately at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi waved him off and gestured Oikawa inside. Oikawa gave Hanamaki a smug look, shut the door in his face, and dropped into one of Iwaizumi’s chairs.

The person on the phone hadn’t stopped talking.

“…significantly concerned about wages. I understand that Seijoh is a large company, but taking into account-”

“I’ve already told you, Futakuchi-san,” said Iwaizumi, his voice becoming rougher with impatience. “That isn’t my department. I’m only requesting the employee files so we can begin absorbing the positions into the structure of Seijoh.”

Oikawa sat back with a quiet sigh and rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

Seijoh was currently in the process of merging with a rival business, Dateko Inc. They had been rivals in the past, but more recently Dateko was on a downward slope. Their profits had plummeted and they were on the verge of shutting down. Seijoh’s CEO, Oikawa’s father, had proposed a merger with Dateko, which would enlarge his business and save the jobs of the Dateko employees. It was the best option for everyone involved.

Apparently Futakuchi wasn’t so keen on the idea, because he was certainly making the entire process more difficult.

“And I’ve already told you,” said Futakuchi, “that I can’t release that information. All employee files are private. I can send you a list of all our current positions, but I won’t send individual files.”

“Then there’s no way for us to expand our structure,” said Iwaizumi. He clenched a hand into a fist to keep from slapping his palm against the desk. “How are we supposed to integrate your employees if we don’t even know who they are and what they’re qualified for?”

“That isn’t my concern, Iwaiyama-san. That’s your job, not mine.”

Oikawa shifted forward in his chair. Iwaizumi looked up at him and was surprised to see his own frustration reflected in Oikawa’s face. Oikawa opened his mouth but Iwaizumi shook his head. 

“Yes,” Iwaizumi agreed, “it is my job to determine what work your employees will do for Seijoh. That means if I don’t do my job properly, it’s possible that there won’t be enough positions available and that we will have to cut some of your workers. The more you resist me on this, Futakuchi, the worse the outcome is going to be for you. I’m trying to make this work for all of us. I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult.”

Iwaizumi had glared at the phone as he spoke. Now his eyes darted back up to Oikawa, who looked pleased by Iwaizumi’s response.

Futakuchi was not impressed.

“I’m being difficult,” said Futakuchi, “because I’m dealing with an amateur.”

Iwaizumi sat back. He felt like he’d been slapped.

“I knew your predecessor well,” Futakuchi continued, “and I know he left the company less than three months ago. You’ve only just started that job so you couldn’t possibly know what you’re doing. I don’t know why I was told to work out these details with you when I could be dealing with someone experienced.”

Iwaizumi was slightly offended, but Oikawa was absolutely enraged.

Despite the anger brewing in the sharp lines of his face, when Oikawa spoke, his voice was deceptively calm.

“Futakuchi-san, good morning,” he said, affecting cheer into his voice. “This is Oikawa Tooru. I hope you’re doing well.”

There was a long silence. Iwaizumi held his breath, but Oikawa seemed to be vindictively pleased.

“Oh, umm, Oikawa-san,” Futakuchi finally said, his tone mild. “I wasn’t informed that this was a conference call.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Oikawa. “I just came down to Iwaizumi’s office for a moment and happened to step in on your conversation. It sounds like there are some issues with the merger. Is there anything I can help with?”

The words were light and breezy. If Iwaizumi hadn’t been looking directly at Oikawa’s sharp scowl, he would’ve believed it was truly a genuine question.

“There isn’t a problem, exactly. When we agreed to the merger I was under the impression I would be working directly with Ushijima-san. I expected to deal with someone more experienced. My future and that of my employees is dependent on this merger. I’m sure you understand my concern, Oikawa-san.”

“Of course, Futakuchi-san.” Oikawa smiled, and it was so sharp that Iwaizumi winced. “I understand completely. I can assure you that Iwaizumi-san is more than capable of handling this project. He is extremely competent. I would entrust the fate of the entire company into his hands and not worry for a single moment.”

There was a pause in which no one spoke and Iwaizumi fought to remain neutral in spite of the high praise.

“I was unaware that Iwaizumi-san was so highly valued by Seijoh,” said Futakuchi. “I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused, Oikawa-san.”

“No need to apologize,” said Oikawa. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His face was still murderous. “I understand why you would be concerned. After all, you single-handedly drove Dateko into the ground in the span of two years. I’m sure that someone with that level of personal incompetence probably assumes that everyone else has the capacity for extreme failure as well.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth fell open. 

Futakuchi sputtered for a moment. “Oikawa-san, I’m sorry, but I-”

“As I said, no need to apologize. Now, what information did you need, Iwaizumi-san?”

It took Iwaizumi a moment to realize he was being addressed. “Employee files,” he finally managed. “So we can match competencies with new positions.”

“Perfect,” said Oikawa. “So can we expect those to be sent over within the hour, Futakuchi-san?”

“Within the… Oikawa-san, it’s going to take longer to-”

“By tomorrow afternoon then,” said Oikawa. “No later than two. Iwaizumi is a busy man. He needs that information as soon as possible.”

“Well, I can try and see-”

“Great!” said Oikawa loudly. “Just let Iwaizumi-san know if you have any more difficulties, though I expect there will be no more holdups.”

“No, of course not.”

“Perfect. We’ll see you at the meeting on Friday, Futakuchi-san. Have a great day!”

Oikawa smiled as he reached across the desk to end the call. 

“I’ve always hated him,” Oikawa said, the words sliding through his teeth. “He always thought he was so damn important. I was thrilled when I heard Dateko was ruined. It serves that self-righteous bastard right.”

Iwaizumi had never seen such vicious satisfaction. 

He’d seen Oikawa smile a thousand times, but this smile was different. It was razor-sharp, toxic. 

It was strangely attractive.

“Thanks, Shittykawa,” he mumbled, “but I could’ve handled it myself.”

“Oh, I know that.” The bitterness vanished, replaced by a smug grin. “I have complete faith in you. But no one insults Iwa-chan on my watch.”

“You were defending my honor,” said Iwaizumi flatly. “How noble.”

“I’m a gentleman.”

“You’re delusional.”

“How about a proper thank you?” said Oikawa. He leaned further over the desk and puckered his lips. 

Iwaizumi sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Get out of my office. I have work to do.”

“Come on, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, leaning even closer. “Just one kiss.”

“No. I’m busy.”

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa crawled halfway onto the desk, sending Iwaizumi’s paperwork into disarray. “I’m not leaving until you kiss me.”

“Then go sit in the corner at least so you’ll be out of my way.”

Oikawa climbed fully onto the desk. He perched on his hands and knees, leaning over Iwaizumi with a smirk. “You know you want to,” he said, dropping his voice into a low purr. “Come here, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi’s resolve faltered. He couldn’t deny that Oikawa looked appealing like that, with his hands wrapped around the edge of the desk and his eyes half-lidded and that smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Iwaizumi briefly thought of fucking Oikawa on the desk, papers crumpling beneath him, gripping his hips, making Oikawa moan so loudly that everyone on the seventh floor would know what they were doing.

He blinked the thought away. Oikawa’s smirk widened, as if he could read Iwaizumi’s mind.

He leaned forward a bit more, tilting his head.

Iwaizumi reached out a hand. Oikawa’s hair slipped through his fingers like liquid, soft and silky.

Oikawa closed his eyes against the touch. Iwaizumi rolled his chair closer and kissed him.

There was nothing spectacular about it. It was brief and dry and there was no sudden urge to make it into anything more. Still, when Iwaizumi pulled back, his pulse had stuttered a little more quickly.

“Now get out,” said Iwaizumi, “so I can work.”

Oikawa smiled, unbothered. “Of course, Iwa-chan.” He backed off of the desk carefully, leaving most of the paperwork intact. He walked to the door, and Iwaizumi couldn’t keep from watching the slight sway of his hips. He knew Oikawa was doing it on purpose, but he still couldn’t look away.

When he reached the door, Oikawa glanced over his shoulder. “I hope I didn’t distract you too much.” He stepped out of the office with a wave. When he turned away he said, “Bye-bye, Makki!”

Only a second later Hanamaki was in the doorway. “Iwaizumi-san, I’m sorry, I tried to stop him from coming in but he-”

“It’s alright,” he said. “Oikawa is impossible to deal with. I understand.”

Hanamaki was clearly relieved. He eyed the mess of paperwork on Iwaizumi’s desk. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” said Iwaizumi as he straightened the papers, avoiding direct eye contact. “Nothing at all. We should be receiving those employee files from Dateko by tomorrow. It’ll take all of us to get the information ready by the meeting on Friday, so if you could all try and catch up on everything today in preparation it would be appreciated.”

“Of course, Iwaizumi-san. Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Makki.”

It took approximately six seconds for Iwaizumi to realize what he’d said. When he did he looked up, horrified.

“Hanamaki,” he corrected quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

Hanamaki didn’t appear offended, but he was clearly confused. “It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me.” He looked over his shoulder, as if to confirm no one was listening in. Then he said, “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Oikawa lately.”

“I suppose,” said Iwaizumi carefully.

“Just… be careful, Iwaizumi-san. Oikawa is…” He struggled for a moment. “Just… be careful.”

He ducked out of the office before Iwaizumi could press for further information. 

Oikawa was obviously a nuisance, but what was so bad about him that multiple people felt the need to warn Iwaizumi about him? There was no way that anyone could know about the two of them, anyway. They weren’t even in a relationship. They’d only gone on a date or two and exchanged a couple of kisses. They weren’t together. 

Not yet, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next time:
> 
> The Dateko meeting goes well, Ushijima is tactless, and things get heated in Oikawa's office. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys. ^^


	9. Chapter 9

Iwaizumi wasn’t a very anxious person, but he found himself growing more and more nervous as the Friday meeting with Dateko approached. He wasn’t concerned about Futakuchi. Oikawa had effectively solved that problem and Iwaizumi hadn’t had a single issue with him since. The unnerving thing about the meeting was that the CEO himself would be in attendance, which was a rare occurrence. The elder Oikawa tended to distance himself from his employees, conducting the company’s business from the recesses of his eleventh-floor office. Typically he directly communicated only with Ushijima, who was always in charge of any company meetings or conferences.

Apparently the Dateko matter was important enough to prompt the CEO to participate in person, and that put much more pressure on Iwaizumi and his role in the merger. 

The conference room was located on the eleventh floor, across from the CEO’s office. The CEO himself sat at the head of the table with Ushijima at his right hand and Oikawa at his left. Somehow Iwaizumi had ended up in the seat beside Oikawa, just close enough so he caught an occasional whiff of his cologne. It was a little distracting, but not nearly as distracting as the frequent glances that Oikawa tossed in his direction.

Futakuchi Kenji was seated across the table, and Iwaizumi had to actively keep himself from scowling at him.

Iwaizumi listened as Ushijima discussed the progress of the merger and the tentative date, about six months away, that all of the changes would be complete. When he finished, the CEO nodded and tapped his pen against the table. 

“Excellent.” His voice was low and rough, nothing like Oikawa’s. “Iwaizumi, have you finished outlining the placements for the Dateko employees?”

“Yes, sir.” Iwaizumi cleared his throat and glanced down at his report. He pretended not to notice Oikawa looking at him. “Of all the employees on Dateko’s payroll, Seijoh has similar positions to all except for a very small number of exceptions. Even so, I’ve developed a solution for this that is fairly easy to implement and it will allow us to envelop all of Dateko’s employees without making any cuts. We’ll integrate some of them into our office here while some will remain in the old Dateko building to expand the second location. The first step for this…”

Iwaizumi plowed through the report that had been complied with the help of his employees; especially Hanamaki, who had stayed at the office until nearly ten o’clock the previous night helping Iwaizumi wrap up the final details. 

Oikawa had been at least a little helpful, too. He’d brought them takeout so they could continue working without interruption. Hanamaki had been a little suspicious, but Oikawa hadn’t asked for anything in return. He’d just made the delivery and left them to their work.

Maybe Oikawa wasn’t so bad after all.

At least, that was what Iwaizumi thought until a hand glided up his thigh in the middle of his recitation, long fingers trailing along the inseam of his slacks.

He made a choking sound and disguised it as a cough, raising a hand to cover his mouth. It was impossible for him to cover the heat that burned beneath his skin, the source primarily embarrassment. 

Everyone was staring at him except for Ushijima. The VP’s eyes were fixed on Oikawa, as if he knew the source of Iwaizumi’s distress.

“Excuse me,” said Iwaziumi. He cleared his throat and started reading again, ignoring the hand that lingered on his leg. 

A moment later, when he thought it would be subtle, he aimed a sharp kick to his right, toward a very vulnerable ankle. Oikawa hissed softly and withdrew his hand, allowing Iwaizumi to complete his report without further distraction.

“Very good,” said the CEO, nodding along with several of the others at the table. “We’ll implement your suggestions, Iwaizumi. It should go quite smoothly. Futakuchi, do you have anything to add?”

Futakuchi spoke for a moment, and despite his best efforts, Iwaizumi couldn’t focus on anything he said.

His eyes darted to the side. Oikawa sat with his chin propped in his hand, giving minimal attention to the meeting. His eyes were on Iwaizumi, and there was a heat behind his gaze that made Iwaizumi’s breath catch. 

He held his eyes for approximately five seconds before he had to look away. He shifted in his chair, his slacks suddenly a little uncomfortable. 

If Oikawa could do that to him with just a look, he was almost scared to see what he could accomplish when he put his mind to it.

Iwaizumi glanced at Kuroo, a couple of seats down, and remembered what he’d said.

Fucked. Iwaizumi was absolutely fucked.

Iwaizumi made it through the rest of the meeting without looking at Oikawa. Afterward he had to shake Futakuchi’s hand and pretend they were on good terms. He also had to introduce himself to the other Dateko executives who had attended, the most intimidating of which towered over Iwaizumi with a flat scowl as they shook hands. 

Someone patted him on the shoulder, and Iwaizumi was surprised to find the CEO nodding at him.

“Good job, Iwaizumi. I knew it was a good idea to bring you on board. You’re doing great work for us.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Iwaizumi. “I’m doing my best.”

The CEO drifted off to converse further with Dateko, and Iwaizumi tried to slip out of the conference room unnoticed.

It didn’t go as planned.

“Iwaizumi-san!” 

He stopped in the doorway and reluctantly looked back. Oikawa rounded the corner of the long table and approached, sliding past Kuroo and one of his employees from the finance department. “I need to speak to you in my office,” said Oikawa. “I have some concerns about your report that I would like to discuss, if you have the time.”

Oikawa’s face was as serious as his voice. Iwaizumi would have thought he really wanted to talk about the report if Oikawa hadn’t tipped him a sly wink when no one was looking. 

“Of course, Oikawa-san,” he said. “I’d be more than happy to address your concerns.”

They left the conference room together. Unfortunately, Kuroo also chose that moment to leave the meeting. 

“Your report was very thorough,” he said, catching up to Iwaizumi. “I was impressed.”

“Thank you, Kuroo-san.”

“Of course. Have you met Kenma?” he said, gesturing to the man who followed a few lazy steps behind. “He’s the supervisor of finance, my second-in-command.”

Iwaizumi looked at him, surprised. Kenma was a small man with a bad dye job, who didn’t even look up from his phone as Kuroo made the introduction.

“Don’t mind Ken-chan,” said Oikawa as they reached the elevator. “He’s not much for conversation.”

Kenma looked up from his phone long enough to glare at Oikawa before he was again engrossed in the device. 

The four of them stepped onto the elevator together. When the doors slid open to the tenth floor, Kuroo smirked at Oikawa and Iwaizumi as they exited. 

“Make sure you cover the entire report,” he said, giving Iwaizumi a suggestive smile. “You don’t want to miss any details.”

Iwaizumi bit down on the inside of his cheek and commanded himself not to react. He didn’t know if Kuroo was taunting him because of their prior conversation or because he’d noticed Oikawa teasing him during the meeting.

He hoped it was the former. He didn’t want Kuroo to think he was unprofessional.

A heavy silence hung between them as Oikawa led Iwaizumi to his office. There were no more cheeky comments or pointed glances. 

At least, until they stepped inside and Oikawa shut the door behind them.

His smug smile was firmly in place as he turned to face Iwaizumi, who was still a little flustered by Kuroo’s comment. 

“What’s wrong?” Oikawa cooed. “You look upset.”

“I have every right to be upset,” said Iwaizumi, the words heated. “I was giving my first important report in front of every top executive in the company. Did you think it would be funny to embarrass me?”

“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa looked at him with wide eyes that did not seem apologetic. “I was just trying to be supportive. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m furious.”

Iwaizumi’s scowl wasn’t as sharp as he would’ve liked, and Oikawa noticed.

Oikawa’s mouth twitched with a smirk. He hummed. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Iwaizumi slapped a hand against Oikawa’s chest and shoved him back. He stepped close, caging him against the door, breathing an inch away from that stupid smug smirk. Oikawa gave him the look again, the one that he’d tossed in his direction during the meeting, the one that made Iwaizumi’s blood burn.

Iwaizumi kissed him, and this time wasn’t like the others, when he’d been careful and controlled. He kissed Oikawa with abandon; a hard press of their mouths, a hand tight in Oikawa’s hair, the catch of his teeth on Oikawa’s lip.

Oikawa’s hands gripped the front of Iwaizumi’s suit jacket, yanking him closer until they were flush against one another. Long fingers slid beneath the jacket and latched around Iwaizumi’s back.

He tugged on Oikawa’s hair and coaxed his head back, deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue past Oikawa’s lips to lick into his mouth. 

Oikawa exhaled a breathy moan that went straight to Iwaizumi’s dick.

He pressed a kiss on the edge of Oikawa’s jaw and then moved down to his neck, grazing his tongue along pale, perfect skin. Oikawa’s head thumped back against the door, eyes closed against the sensation. Iwaizumi nibbled at the skin, teasing it lightly between his teeth, then returned to Oikawa’s mouth with a swipe of his tongue.

“I’m going to make you angry more often,” Oikawa said breathlessly. 

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi said, nipping at Oikawa’s full lower lip. “I like you better when you don’t talk.”

“Such a charmer, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi pressed a knee between Oikawa’s thighs, applying pressure to his groin, and successfully ended the gasps of conversation.

Oikawa moaned again but this time Iwaizumi swallowed the sound, lips sealed against Oikawa’s. 

Oikawa shifted his hips, seeking friction against Iwaizumi’s leg. He pulled back from the kiss, a string of saliva breaking between their mouths. His pupils were blown and his voice rough when he said, “Just fuck me right here, Iwa-chan. Please. I’ve waited long enough.”

If Iwaizumi had ever been so turned on in his life, he couldn’t remember it.

He pressed his leg more firmly against Oikawa, who threw his head back against the door again. He dipped his head to suck on the side of Oikawa’s neck, one hand finding the collar of Oikawa’s shirt and working at the knot of his tie. 

There was a knock on the door, exactly where Oikawa’s head rested.

Iwaizumi froze, face buried in Oikawa’s neck, breath suddenly gone from his lungs. He stood upright to look at Oikawa, who’d also gone completely still.

The knock came again, this time paired with a voice.

“Oikawa, I know you’re in there. I need to talk to you.”

It was Ushijima.

Suddenly Iwaizumi remembered that he was at the office, on company time, while important executives from a neighboring company were still on the premises.

He moved to step back but Oikawa seized the front of his shirt and held him there.

“What is it?” said Oikawa, his voice a little deeper than usual. “I’m busy.”

There was a pause on the other side.

“I know you are,” said Ushijima. His tone was off. “That’s why I need to talk to you.”

“It can wait, Ushiwaka.”

“No, it can’t. Open the door.”

“I said it can wait.”

“If you don’t open it I’ll do it myself. You know I have a spare key.”

Iwaizumi remembered the way Oikawa had fumed wile he’d been on the phone with Futakuchi earlier that week. He looked similar now, only the flush on his face wasn’t solely from anger. 

Oikawa released his grip on Iwaizumi, allowing him to take a step back, before turning and yanking the door open. 

Ushijima stood calmly on the other side, unsurprised by Oikawa’s rumpled clothing and mussed hair.

“ _What_ ?” Oikawa snapped, his voice the crack of a whip.

Ushijima was unaffected.

“I need to speak with you,” he said. His eyes traveled over Oikawa’s shoulder to find Iwaizumi. “Alone.”

Iwaizumi self-consciously fidgeted with his jacket, brushing his palms along the front to press out any wrinkles. His pants were still a little too tight, but he hoped Ushijima wouldn’t notice. He started toward the door, intending to slip past Ushijima and return to the seventh floor.

Oikawa’s arm smacked against his chest as he tried to pass, holding him back.

“No,” said Oikawa, tone steeped in anger. “If whatever you have to say is so damn important then hurry up. You can say it in front of Iwaizumi.”

Ushijima looked from him to Iwaizumi and back. “I’m fairly certain you don’t want me to do that, Tooru.”

Oikawa visibly twitched at the sound of his given name. 

It only seemed to make him angrier. 

His jaw tightened, hands curling into fists at his sides. Despite the fresh bout of fury, it seemed to make Oikawa take Ushijima’s request more seriously.

“Fine,” he spat, the word filled with so much venom that it could have poisoned the entire office. His glare softened only marginally as he looked to Iwaizumi. “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan. I’ll talk to you later.”

“It’s fine.” He hated to leave him like that, but couldn’t see that he had much of a choice. Besides, he didn’t think he wanted to be there for whatever conversation was about to take place. Clearly Ushijima knew what they’d been doing. Iwaizumi only hoped that it wouldn’t affect his career. 

Oikawa would be fine. It was practically his company.

Iwaizumi was much more expendable.

“Excuse me, Ushijima-san,” said Iwaizumi, stepping past the VP as he entered the hallway.

“Please pardon the intrusion,” said Ushijima. He sounded like he meant it, but it was hard to tell. Ushijima didn’t exactly express much emotion.

Iwaizumi returned to the seventh floor, engaged Hanamaki and Matsukawa in conversation regarding the status of the meeting, then went to sit in his office and collect his thoughts.

He was almost grateful for Ushijima’s intrusion. He could only imagine what he would currently be doing if he hadn’t interrupted. While it was extremely appealing, it was also very unprofessional to engage in that kind of behavior at work. Iwaizumi had always been more responsible than this. He didn’t know what was wrong with him.

No, actually he did know. Oikawa Tooru was what was wrong with him.

He thought about Ushijima again, and the way he’d called Oikawa by name. It had been a familiar address, as if the two of them were much closer than they seemed; or had been, at some point in the past.

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but wonder exactly how familiar they’d been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next time:
> 
> Oikawa whines, coffee is spilled, and new characters enter the fray.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ^^


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chants*
> 
> Shir-a-tor-i-zawa!  
> Shir-a-tor-i-zawa!  
> Shir-a-tor-i-zawa!

Everyone was working long, hectic hours because of the impending merger, but Oikawa had insisted that Iwaizumi sacrifice part of his weekend for them to go out again. Iwaizumi had no complaints. Thoughts of Ushijima lurked in the back of his mind, but they weren’t potent enough to make him forget the thrill and the heat of kissing Oikawa. He was eager to pick up where they left off, and soon.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go according to plan.

“It’s _Sunday_ , Iwa-chan!” said Oikawa, his whine loud in Iwaiuzmi’s ear. “Sunday! You were already at the office all day yesterday!”

“I know,” said Iwaizumi. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, saying a silent prayer for patience. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I have to get everything set up before tomorrow morning.”

Half an hour before Iwaizumi had left work on Friday evening, Ushijima had made an appearance in his office. Iwaizumi had nearly panicked, assuming it had something to do with the compromising position in which Ushijima had found him and Oikawa earlier that day. 

The reason for his visit had nothing to do with that, but it was nearly as stressful.

“The Dateko equivalent of my department is going to move into our building tomorrow,” said Iwaizumi. Oikawa already knew, but it didn’t seem he was grasping the importance of the situation. “I’m going to have five new employees working for me. The output of my department is going to double. I have a lot of work to do, Oikawa.” 

Oikawa’s sigh rolled into Iwaizumi’s ear like a gale force wind. 

“But I want to see you,” he said. The whining tone was gone. He just sounded dejected. “I want to spend time with you, Iwa-chan.”

That made Iwaizumi feel a pang of guilt, though he knew it wasn’t his fault at all. When Ushijima had told him about the migration of the Dateko employees, Iwaizumi hadn’t been given a choice. It was his job to make sure the seventh floor was ready for the new arrivals. Ushijima had assured him that he would receive a significant pay raise since his department was literally doubling in size, but that wasn’t much consolation when he envisioned Oikawa’s sad pout.

“I want to see you, too,” he said quietly. He glanced sideways at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who weren’t even pretending not to eavesdrop on his conversation. He turned his back on them and continued, “I’m sorry, Oikawa. When things settle down we’ll go out, alright?”

“Promise?”

“Of course. If you’re that desperate you can always come in to work and help out.”

Oikawa’s voice floated up an octave. “Oh, that’s okay, Iwa-chan,” he said. “I’m sure you’re doing a great job there. I don’t work on Sundays.” His tone dropped lower as he said, “I’ll come by for a little while if you want to take a break, though. You know, if you need a _distraction_.” 

The last word was more purr than human speech. Iwaizumi clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“Fine, Iwa-chan. You’re having lunch with me tomorrow or I’m never speaking to you again.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi huffed a laugh. “We’ll have lunch. Bye, Oikawa.”

He hung up and turned around to find his two faithful employees shamelessly staring at him.

“Feel free to work without me,” he said, waving a hand at the stack of files on the desk in front of them. “It won’t hurt my feelings or anything.”

“So you and Oikawa,” said Matsukawa without preamble. “We all suspected something was going on, but it’s really true. Unbelievable.”

“Nothing’s going on,” said Iwaizumi, very aware of just how unconvincing he sounded. “We’re friends.”

The two of them exchanged a look. 

“Friends,” repeated Iwaizumi, putting more force behind the word. “Just like the two of you.”

Matsukawa snorted. Hanamaki’s face didn’t change. “Just like us,” he said. “Sure.”

“Anyway,” said Iwaizumi, waving off the conversation. “We just need to make sure the rest of this information is distributed properly. The new guys can do their filing systems however they’d like.”

Matsukawa sighed. He’d made it clear how he felt about the merger. 

“Come on, it won’t be that bad,” said Iwaizumi. “They’ll be fine.”

“Or they’ll be awful,” said Matsukawa with a shrug. “Either way.”

The layout of the seventh floor had been adjusted the day before. New cubicles had been added to accommodate the workers who would arrive Monday morning. Iwaizumi had recruited Hanamaki and Matsukawa to work over the weekend to get things ready. They’d been bribed with overtime pay and a future dinner at a restaurant of their choice, the latter of which Iwaizumi was already beginning to regret. He had a sneaking suspicion that the dinner would include lobster, and a lot of it.

It was a good thing he was getting a pay raise.

“Let’s just get this done as soon as possible,” said Iwaizumi. “If we finish these files the two of you should be able to leave by five.”

They shared a look.

“What about you?” said Hanamaki.

Iwaizumi grabbed the nearest file and started flipping through the contents. The layout was unfamiliar, the bottom of the page printed with the Dateko logo that was now obsolete. All of the paperwork would have to be redone on Seijoh letterheads. 

“I’ll probably stay later,” he said with a shrug. “It’ll take a while to get everything sorted out. I want the transition to go as smoothly as possible.”

He almost felt the silent conversation pass between his two employees. It was Hanamaki who spoke, but he knew the statement came from both of them.

“We’ll stay as late as you do,” said Hanamaki. “We’re with you, boss.”

Iwaizumi smiled despite himself. “Thanks, Makki,” he said, using the nickname without restraint. “I’ll buy you guys _two_ dinners for this.”

  
  
  
Monday morning arrived all too soon. Iwaizumi stepped onto the seventh floor at seven-thirty, consciousness bolstered by four hours of sleep and three cups of coffee. The fourth was in his hand as he made one last circuit of the floor to make sure everything appeared to be in order. The five new cubicles were equipped with supplies and stamped with the names of each new employee.

He wove through the new setup and headed toward his office. The door was slightly ajar and he frowned at it. He could’ve sworn he’d locked up the night before, but maybe he’d been so tired that he’d forgotten.

He nudged the door open and stepped inside, only to be greeted with a cry of, “Iwa-chan!”

He yelped and stumbled back, his coffee slipping through his fingers and tumbling to the floor. Iwaizumi whipped his head up to find Oikawa sitting at his desk, looking as if he was just as surprised as Iwaizumi.

“Oops,” said Oikawa. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Iwa-chan.”

It took a moment for Iwaizumi to recover. When he did, his immediate response was irritation. “You didn’t mean to?” he snapped, brow knotting in a scowl. “What else did you think would happen? You’re in my office at seven-thirty in the morning. You never even drag your ass to work before nine, Shittykawa. What the hell are you even doing here?”

Oikawa looked properly abashed, and a measure of Iwaiuzmi’s agitation faded.

“I brought you coffee,” said Oikawa, nudging the cup on Iwaiuzmi’s desk. “Which is good, since you dropped yours.”

Iwaizumi glared down at the drink splashed across his office floor. “You’re the _reason_ I dropped it.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “You’re so bitter, Iwa-chan. Just like your coffee. I got it black, the way you like it.”

Iwaizumi made himself take a breath. He stepped over the mess and shrugged his bag onto the corner of the desk. “Thanks, Oikawa. But next time give me a call and say you want to meet me before work.”

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Good. I don’t like surprises.”

“No,” said Oikawa with a grin, “but you like _me_.”

Iwaizumi’s stare was flat. “I don’t know who told you that, but they were lying.”

“Iwa-chan!”

Hanamaki announced his arrival with a tap against the open door, which was good. Iwaizumi had been on the verge of kissing the pout off of Oikawa’s face.

“Good morning,” said Hanamaki, eyeing the mess on the floor. “I’ll get someone to come clean that up.”

“It’s fine. Oikawa will get it.”

“I will not! I’m not a janitor.”

“You’re right. You’re just garbage.”

“Iwa-chan, why do you have to be so mean?”

Hanamaki’s stare was unchanging. “Like I said, I’ll have someone get that.”

“Thanks, Makki.”

“Yeah, thanks, Makki!” Oikawa echoed, waving as he stepped away from the open doorway. When he looked back at Iwaizumi, his mouth curled with a grin. “I always liked Makki. I used to work with him, you know. I had to toil away on the seventh floor a couple of years ago before dad let me have my own office.”

“That sounds awful,” said Iwaizumi. “I don’t know how Hanamaki survived.”

“Iwa-chan!”

This time Iwaizumi leaned forward and wiped away Oikawa’s frown with a slide of his lips. “I’m joking,” he said as he pulled back. “Mostly.”

Oikawa huffed, but his offense was clearly gone. 

Iwaizumi reached for the cup on his desk and took a cautious sip. It tasted better than the one he’d dropped, but maybe that was only because of the source. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anything for you, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa stood and smoothed his hands over the front of Iwaizumi’s shirt. “You look nice today. Are you ready to whip your new Dateko slaves into shape?”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure they’re all very competent. Dateko was a successful business for two decades. They have to know what they’re doing.”

“They _were_ successful,” said Oikawa. “And they went under faster than the Titanic.” He pressed a fleeting kiss to the corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth. “I’m going up to my office. Unfortunately this merger has given me some actual work, too. It’s awful. I might die.”

“We couldn’t be that lucky.”

“So mean, Iwa-chan.”

Hanamaki stepped into the office only a minute after Oikawa left. Something about his face made Iwaizumi suspect he’d seen their goodbye.

“Someone from custodial will be up shortly,” said Hanamaki. “You may want them to disinfect your face while you’re at it. Oikawa germs can’t be healthy.”

Yes, he’d definitely seen.

“Thanks, Makki. Is everything set up for the new guys?”

“As far as I know. They should be arriving shortly.”

“Good. Thanks for all your help this week. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Hanamaki shrugged off the gratitude. “It’s not a problem. I’m here to help.”

He was the perfect employee, and Iwaizumi hoped that the new transfers from Dateko would be half as good. 

He met them half an hour later and decided not to get his hopes up.

  
  
  
The Dateko equivalent of Iwaizumi’s department was a group of five men who referred to themselves as the Shiratorizawa division. Iwaizumi assumed that was what they’d been called at Dateko, though he was uncertain why each department had their own individualized title. 

They arrived at eight o’clock, sharp. A couple of them seemed nice enough; competent, even. 

And then there was…

“Tendou Satori,” the tall, gangly redhead announced. He shook Iwaizumi’s hand with a grin that was, quite frankly, creepy.

“Welcome to the seventh floor,” said Iwaizumi, just as he’d said to all the others. They were clustered around the elevator where they’d just stepped off, accompanied by Ushijima. “We have your cubicles all set up. If you’ll follow me I’ll show you where you’ll be working.”

“I’ll be in my office,” said Ushijima, “if you need anything.”

“Right. Thank you, Ushijima-san.”

He left, and Iwaizumi immediately felt a little more at ease. Integrating the new employees into his department was stressful enough, but doing it with Ushijima looking over his shoulder would have been maddening.

As he led the transfers through the office, he felt the stares of the resident employees following him. He glanced to the side and saw all six of them peering over the tops of their cubicles. He made a sharp gesture, silently ordering them to stop.

None of them did.

He bit down on a sigh and stopped in front of the new cubicles.

“They’re already labeled with your names,” he said, indicating the gold plates outside each doorway. “You should have sufficient supplies, but if you’re lacking anything at all please let me know. My office is right over there.”

“Do we have to keep this order?” asked one of them. Iwaizumi fished around in his memory for a moment until he remembered the man’s name was Semi. “You have Tendou and Goshiki beside each other. It might be a problem.”

Tendou clutched a hand over his heart, as if offended. Goshiki looked surprised. 

“Why would it be a problem?” asked Iwaizumi carefully.

“Tendou is an instigator,” said Semi flatly, “and Goshiki is an easy target. It might be distracting.”

“No, I’m not,” insisted Goshiki, his face heating a little. 

“I would never tease Tsutomu,” said Tendou, throwing a lanky arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. “There’s nothing to tease him about. Especially not his super cool haircut.”

Goshiki stared up at him, clearly wanting to accept that as a compliment.

“I’m confident that it won’t be an issue,” said Iwaizumi. Semi looked doubtful. Iwaizumi said, more plainly, “And by that, I mean don’t make it an issue. Understood?”

Tendou and Goshiki agreed with a chorus of “Yes, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Before you have time to get comfortable in your cubicles,” said Iwaizumi, “I’m going to have all of you spend some time with the other guys on this floor. We need to figure out what worked differently at Dateko to make this an easy transition for all of you.”

Iwaizumi looked back toward his other workers. They had conveniently disappeared back into their respective cubicles.

“Of course,” he mumbled under his breath. “Follow me. I’ll give each of you someone to shadow until lunch.”

Ohira seemed to be a decent, easygoing individual. Iwaizumi left him with Watari, trusting that the two would get along. He assigned Shirabu to sit with Yahaba, and put Goshiki with Kindaichi. Then only Tendou and Semi were left, and Iwaizumi experienced a moment of indecision.

Tendou was obviously the odd one among them, and he needed to train with someone who could offer sufficient guidance. He didn’t seem like he was going to intentionally cause problems; he was just a little different.

Semi seemed very capable, and that was part of the problem. According to his file, Semi had been the supervisor of the Shiratorizawa division. As a result of the merger, he lost that supervisory status and was now on the same level as the rest of them. On the surface, Iwaizumi thought maybe Semi still had a bitter attitude about the whole thing, which would make him more difficult to work with. He needed someone firm, who wouldn’t let Semi take charge when he had no business doing so.

When he thought about it like that, the choice was obvious.

“Tendou, you’ll be sitting with Matsukawa,” he said. “Semi, you’ll be here with Hanamaki. He’s the best of the best. I’m counting on the two of you to figure out any difficulties we’ll have with the conversion of Dateko paperwork and reports.”

Semi nodded. Hanamaki eyed him with a raised brow.

“All right. I’ll be back around to collect everyone before lunch.” He raised his voice a little and said, “Kunimi, I need you in my office. Since you’re not paired up you can help me with my reports.”

There was an unenthusiastic, “Yes, Iwaiziumi-san,” from Kunimi’s cubicle. 

Iwaizumi hadn’t expected anything more.

The first part of the day went smoothly. Iwaizumi checked on his employees every now and then to make sure there were no issues. Matsukawa looked more and more drained as the hours wore on, but otherwise everyone seemed fine.

When noon arrived, Iwaizumi offered to take the new employees across the street for curry. They all accepted eagerly except for Semi, who did so with visible reluctance. As they waited for the elevator, Iwaizumi heard a disgruntled voice from within a cubicle.

“He never took us out for lunch.”

“And I never will with that attitude, Mattsun,” said Iwaizumi loudly. 

Tendou giggled.

The door slid open and Iwaizumi was surprised to find Oikawa inside.

“Oh, Iwa-chan!” he said brightly as Iwaizumi stepped inside, along with his five new employees. “I was just coming down to get you. Where do you want to go for lunch?”

“Oh, right.” In the bustle of the morning, Iwaizumi had already forgotten. “Sorry, I’m taking the Dateko guys across the street for curry. You’re welcome to join us.”

Oikawa looked as if he’d been slapped. “You’re _what_ ? You told me we’d go together, Iwa-chan! You told me yesterday!”

Iwaizumi glanced around at his employees, who were pretending not to watch the exchange. 

Except for Tendou. He was staring shamelessly.

“We can still go together,” said Iwaizumi, clinging to his last reserves of patience. He couldn’t lose his composure in front of the new guys already. He had to earn their respect. “Just come with us.”

“No,” snapped Oikawa. He folded his arms and huffed like a toddler. “I’ll find someone else to eat with. And they’ll be better company than you.”

The doors to the second floor slid open. Oikawa stormed out as another confused employee stepped inside. 

Semi eyed Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan?” he repeated, mouth curving into a hard smirk.

Iwaizumi stared back. “He’s the CEO’s son. Would you like to be the one to correct him?”

Semi said nothing, though the dark humor in his expression didn’t falter.

Iwaizumi thought that maybe Semi Eita was going to be a problem.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seijoh, Inc. is now a series! I've posted a Kuroken one-shot, and if you're interested you can find it [ Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9862607). I've also written a Matsuhana one-shot that will be posted on Tuesday, probably.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, you guys. You make this writing thing fun.

Iwaizumi had been wrong about Tendou. He was actually a pleasant, productive individual, if not a little quirky. He liked to sing to himself while he worked, and his phone manners could definitely use improvement, but overall he was a fine employee.

Iwaizumi had no trouble with any of them, in fact; with one exception.

“I told you yesterday,” said Iwaizumi, struggling to keep his voice level, “that this isn’t how we format these reports.” He slid the papers across his desk toward Semi, who sat stiffly in one of his office chairs. “I understand that this is how you did them at Dateko, but Seijoh does things differently. I asked you to fix them.”

“I know,” said Semi. He barely glanced at the papers. “I was going to, but then I decided the Dateko way was better. If you think about it objectively you’ll see that I’m right.”

Iwaizumi took a breath and counted to ten. He could do this without yelling. 

“I’m not asking for your opinion. I’m telling you how to do your job.”

“I know how to do my job.”

“At Dateko, maybe,” said Iwaizumi. “You’re at Seijoh now, and if you’d like to continue working here, you need to make some changes; with your work quality and your attitude.”

Semi visibly bristled. His shoulders rose, rigid, and his folded arms tightened across his chest.

Iwaizumi’s phone rang. He reached for it blindly, still watching Semi.

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“ _Iwa-chan! You won’t believe what just happened! I was looking out the window and I saw-_ ”

“I’m going to have to call you back,” said Iwaizumi, the words sliding between his gritted teeth.

“ _What? Why? This is important, Iwa-chan!_ ”

“I’m busy. I’ll call you back.”

“ _No. Don’t you dare hang up-_ ”

Iwaizumi hung up. 

“Listen,” said Iwaizumi, resuming the conversation as if there’d been no interruption. “It’s obvious that you care about your work, and I appreciate that. I know that you were the supervisor of the Shiratorizawa group, and I respect that, too. But you need to realize you’re not in charge anymore, Semi-san. I am. If I tell you to fix a report-” he tapped the paperwork for emphasis – “then you’d best be fixing the report. Or I’ll replace you with someone who will. Do you understand?”

Semi’s jaw was clenched so tightly that a muscle in the left side of his face twitched. “So you want me to do it your way instead of the right way?” 

“My way _is_ the right way,” said Iwaizumi, a little sharper than he’d intended. “I want the revised reports on my desk first thing Monday morning. If they’re not then we’re going to have a problem. Understood?”

Semi looked as if he was going to continue arguing. 

Iwaizumi braced himself for the disagreement. He’d never been forced to fire someone for insubordination and he didn’t want to start now. 

The door to his office burst open and Oikawa stood framed in the doorway, face colored in outrage.

“You hung up on me,” he snapped. “I can’t believe you hung up on me.”

Iwaizumi felt the beginning of a headache tug at his temple.

Hanamaki’s voice floated into the room, raised in annoyance. “Oikawa, I told you he’s busy!”

Iwaizumi ignored both of them and looked back at Semi. “Understood?” he repeated.

Semi scowled and snatched the papers off of Iwaizumi’s desk. “Yeah, sure.”

He stormed past Oikawa without even looking at him. Oikawa watched him go, expression momentarily flickering, but when he looked back to Iwaizumi his fury reappeared.

“Sorry, Iwaizumi,” said Hanamaki from the doorway. “I tried.”

“It’s fine. Shut the door, please.”

As soon as they were alone Oikawa was standing over him, anger radiating off of him like desert heat.

“Oikawa, I think you’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” repeated Oikawa, his voice cracking on the word. “ _Overreacting_? I’m not overreacting, Iwaizumi. I’ll _show_ you what overreacting looks like.”

Iwaizumi scooted his chair back a little. There hadn’t been a single “Iwa-chan” in that sentence. Something was definitely wrong, and he couldn’t quite accept that it was because of a stupid phone call.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m _not_ okay,” Oikawa snapped. “I just wanted to talk to you. Is it so hard to spare five minutes of your day?”

“I was having a situation,” said Iwaizumi, gesturing to the empty office chair that Semi had just occupied. “It couldn’t wait.”

“A situation with your pretty new employee,” Oikawa sneered. “How tragic.”

Iwaizumi had been shocked by Oikawa’s attitude, but the surprise was fading. Now he felt the embers of his own anger start to burn. He gripped the arms of his chair tightly and resisted the urge to stand up. If he stood up he would start yelling, and that wasn’t going to fix anything. “Excuse me?”

“Is that why you haven’t had time for me?” Oikawa said, taking a step closer. “You’ve been too busy with that pretty new piece of ass with the bad dye job? Are you bored with me already?”

Against his better judgment Iwaizumi found himself on his feet, scowling right back at Oikawa. “If that’s really what you think then get the fuck out. I’m not dealing with this shit.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t back down. “Then what’s the problem? What did I do?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been avoiding me all week!” he said, too loudly. “You’ve been too busy to even have lunch with me and you can’t go anywhere after work because you stay too late and you’ll barely even talk to me on the phone!”

“We talked for half an hour last night, Shittykawa!”

“You’re avoiding me!” Oikawa insisted, pressing a finger into Iwaizumi’s chest. “Just tell me what I did!”

“You didn’t do anything!” Iwaizumi realized he was yelling, after all. He hoped their voices wouldn’t carry outside the office. “I don’t know what your problem is!”

“You!” Oikawa shouted. “You’re my problem! All I want is to be with you and you won’t even let me! Am I that terrible?”

Iwaizumi took a step back, the flames of his anger suddenly extinguished.

Oikawa wasn’t mad. He was insecure.

“Tell me what I did!” Oikawa insisted again. “I thought you liked me. You acted like you liked me.”

“I do like you.”

“Then what’s wrong with you?”

Iwaizumi just stared at him. Oikawa’s cheeks were flushed, his breath coming too fast. He even had a few hairs out of place, which was something Iwaizumi had never witnessed. He was a mess, and it was because he thought Iwaizumi didn’t like him anymore.

Iwaizumi laughed; he couldn’t help it.

“Shut up!” Oikawa said, even more loudly. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not,” said Iwaizumi, fighting his own smile. “I’m really not. You’re just cute when you’re mad.”

Oikawa’s face went blank. He blinked several times, confused.

Iwaizumi pressed Oikawa’s face between his hands and kissed him.

Despite Oikawa’s anger of a moment before, he wasted no time kissing back.

“You’re the worst, Iwa-chan,” he mumbled after a moment, his arms locked around Iwaizumi’s waist. “You should be nicer to me.”

“You’re the one who stormed into my office and attacked me,” he said, brushing Oikawa’s hair off of his forehead. “You’re the one who’s mean.”

Oikawa huffed a sigh into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Sorry. I’m just stressed out right now. I have so much work to do and I haven’t seen you all week and Ushiwaka…” he trailed off, face twisting as the name touched his tongue. “I was worried Ushiwaka said something to you.” He pulled back to look at Iwaizumi. “He didn’t, did he?”

“No. What would he have said?”

“Nothing,” said Oikawa, quickly pressing his face back into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Just forget it.”

That wasn’t likely, but Iwaizumi wasn’t stupid enough to pry. Not right now, when they seemed to be on shaky ground anyway.

“Hey, listen,” said Iwaizumi. He ran his hands up and down Oikawa’s back. “I’ll be here late tonight, but I’m taking Saturday off for sure. Are you busy?”

Oikawa’s words were hot against his neck. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Do you want to do something or not?”

“I guess I can clear my very busy schedule for you, Iwa-chan, if you’re that desperate to spend time with me.”

Iwaizumi shoved him away. “Just say yes. You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“Yes,” said Oikawa. “I want to do something.”

“Okay then.” Iwaizumi stepped back and crossed his arms. “If you don’t mind, I really am drowning in work here. I’ll call you when I leave and we’ll make plans.”

“Fine.” Oikawa gave in with a dramatic sigh. “Kiss me first though or I’m not leaving.”

“I guess if I have to.”

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi pulled him into a kiss, this one more heated than the last. When they broke apart they were breathing a little too heavily, wearing matching flushes on their cheeks.

“Saturday,” said Oikawa, a little breathless. “If you back out I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

“I won’t back out. Go get some work done.”

“Fine, _mom_ ,” he said, stepping away with a roll of his eyes. “You’d better call me later, like you said.”

“I will.”

Oikawa hesitated at the door, squinting at him as if trying to determine if he was lying. “Bye, Iwa-chan.”

“Bye, Oikawa.”

When he was gone Iwaizumi slumped into his chair, drained. The conversation with Semi was bad enough. Oikawa’s freak-out hadn’t helped. 

He felt like he needed a long nap.

“Iwaizumi?” Hanamaki was in the doorway again. “Now that you’re finished with your lover’s spat, we need you. Tendou did something to his computer and it may have erased the weekly financial reports.”

Iwaizumi thought he was a good person.

He didn’t understand what he’d possibly done in his life to deserve this. 

  
  
  
  
“Luckily Kozume came down and managed to restore the data,” said Iwaizumi as he wrapped up the retelling of the incident. It was late Friday afternoon and he was sitting in Ushijima’s office, discussing the status of the new Dateko employees.

“Tendou does seem a bit… different,” said Ushijima. He was staring out the window as he listened to Iwaizumi, but it didn’t seem disrespectful. “I’m sure he will be a good worker, though. What about the others?”

Iwaizumi thought of Semi’s sneer. He almost mentioned their disagreement, but shook his head. “I think they’ll be fine. They caught on to the Seijoh systems pretty quickly. We should be able to match Dateko’s production rate by next month.”

Ushijima nodded, pleased. “Good. You’re doing very well, Iwaizumi. I’m impressed with your work.”

“Thank you, Ushijima-san.”

“You aren’t working this weekend, right?”

“No, I think we’re caught up enough. I’ll stay a little later today but I don’t anticipate putting in any hours over the weekend.”

Ushijima nodded again. “Do you have plans?”

For a moment Iwaizumi thought he might be insinuating that they should do something together. Then he reminded himself who he was speaking to. If Ushijima wanted to do something, he would simply say it.

“Umm, tentatively,” said Iwaizumi. 

“With Oikawa?”

Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say, and Ushijima seemed to sense his discomfort. “You don’t have to answer that,” he said. “That wasn’t appropriate for me to ask as your supervisor.”

“Yes,” said Iwaizumi, not quite sure why he was speaking. “Yes, with Oikawa.”

Ushijima’s eyebrows dipped lower. 

“I like you, Iwaizumi-san,” he said. “You’re a good man.” 

Iwaizumi remembered those same words from their previous encounter on the elevator. He felt tension chew at his limbs. He didn’t want to have this conversation. “That’s why I’m saying this,” said Ushijima, “although I probably should not.”

Iwaizumi wanted to tell him not to say anything then. He wanted to stand up and leave the office, remove himself from the situation before it could become something uncomfortable.

But Ushijima was his boss, and he valued his job.

“Oikawa is a good person, in his own way,” said Ushijima. He was looking out the window again. “He tries, anyway. But it is impossible for someone to deny their nature. We are born the way we are, and it is often impossible to change that. Do you understand, Iwaizumi?”

“Not really.”

Ushijima sighed, and he looked frustrated. “What I’m trying to say,” he started again, “is that no matter how hard Oikawa tries, he’s still Oikawa. Some things do not change.” He swiveled his head and pinned Iwaizumi in a heavy-browed stare. 

Iwaizumi swallowed and tried not to fidget. “I’m sorry. I still don’t know what you mean.”

Ushijima huffed and frowned at the window again. “Sometimes I have a hard time expressing myself. Oikawa always said I’m a little dense.”

_Oikawa always said…_

Iwaizumi felt a touch of coldness at the wording. It insinuated that, at some point, Oikawa had consistently teased Ushijima.

Maybe in the same way he teased Iwaizumi.

He didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m not trying to control your actions,” said Ushijima. “I hope you don’t feel that way. You should do as you like. I just want you to be prepared. Oikawa doesn’t have a very healthy attention span. He gets bored easily. I don’t want you to be hurt by him, is all.”

Iwaizumi finally understood what Ushijima was trying to say.

He wished he was still in the dark.

“Noted,” he said, forcing the word through his teeth. He tried to keep his temper under control but he felt his face contorting, sharpening into a scowl.

“That’s all I wanted to say,” said Ushijima. “As a friend. This has nothing to do with work. I hope you will not resent me for it.”

He was trying to help; Iwaizumi understood that even through his irritation. Later, when he’d had an opportunity to calm down, he may even appreciate the warning.

Or he’d be too caught up thinking about why Ushijima was so familiar with Oikawa to really worry about that.

“Of course not, Ushijima-san,” said Iwaizumi. He managed to sound halfway calm. “Thank you for the advice.”

Ushijima nodded, and if he realized what effect he’d had on Iwaizumi, he effectively ignored it. “One last thing. I got the CEO to approve a new budget plan for your department. It will allow us to appoint someone as your co-supervisor. I felt the extra leadership would be helpful with the new hires. We will open the position internally and consider the applicants, but first I wanted to know if you had any recommendations.”

Iwaizumi didn’t hesitate. “Hanamaki Takahiro. He more than deserves it.”

Ushijima nodded, pleased. “Thank you, Iwaizumi. I will consider that. And thank you for hearing me out. I won’t speak about it again.”

He was referring to Oikawa again, and Iwaizumi knew it. 

“Of course,” he said, recognizing the dismissal. He stood and bowed slightly. “Thank you, Ushijima-san. If you need anything please let me know.”

He considered taking a right and visiting Oikawa’s office, if only for a moment. But he felt Ushijima’s eyes on his back so he took the left for the elevator instead. He wasn’t going to stop seeing Oikawa, but there was no need to be too obvious about it in front of Ushijima. Clearly something had happened between them. Iwaizumi wondered if he should ask Oikawa. He felt he deserved to know since it was dragging him into uncomfortable conversations.

He wondered about Ushijima’s advice, about Oikawa’s tendency to quickly lose interest. It didn’t seem accurate. Oikawa had been harassing him for months now, even before they’d developed some semblance of a relationship. Oikawa wouldn’t leave him alone. He’d been the one to approach Iwaizumi with accusations of becoming distant. It didn’t seem likely that he would be the one to drift away.

But maybe that was a side of Oikawa that he just hadn’t seen yet. He did seem to be rather complicated. One minute he was all fake grins and bright cheer, and the next he was dishing out scalding threats and insults with a much more genuine smile.

Oikawa Tooru was a paradox, so it was possible that Ushijima was right.

Iwaizumi didn’t want to think about it.

He did anyway.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took twelve chapters, but we've finally arrived at the source of that explicit rating.
> 
> Also, there's now a Matsuhana one-shot! You can find it [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10026782).

Saturday dawned with a beautiful orange sunrise. The sky was painted in brightening pastels, staining the windows of Iwaizumi’s apartment. He drank his morning coffee and watched the sky, feeling optimistic about the day.

By noon, storm clouds had crowded in so thickly that it was as if there was no sky overhead at all. 

“They canceled the show because of the rain!” Oikawa whined. It was equally obnoxious over the phone as it would have been in person. “Now what are we supposed to do, Iwa-chan? Why does the world hate me?”

“We’ll just do something else,” said Iwaizumi, trying to calm his dramatics. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal! Everything is ruined!”

“Take a breath, Shittykawa,” said Iwaizumi. He was standing in front of his closet as he spoke, trying to decide what to wear. He’d had something picked out already, but now it wasn’t appropriate for the weather. “There are plenty of other things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like anything. We can get something to eat, or walk around the mall and make fun of people, or get ice cream. Whatever you want.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. At length, Oikawa said quietly, “I like ice cream.”

Iwaizumi smiled. He grabbed a pair of jeans and tossed them onto his bed. “Then we’ll get ice cream. Stop over-thinking this.”

“I just want us to have a good time!”

“We will.”

“But what if you get bored?”

“How the hell could I ever get bored with you around?”

Oikawa paused again. “Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

“Take your pick.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“Just come pick me up like you were planning to,” said Iwaizumi. “If I don’t get to ride around the city in that garish car of yours I’m not even going.” 

“My car is perfect,” said Oikawa, defensive. “You’re just jealous that she’s prettier than you.”

“Sure, that’s it,” said Iwaizumi with a roll of his eyes. “Just come get me, okay?”

“Okay, Iwa-chan. See you soon!”

‘Soon’ turned out to be twenty minutes later than Oikawa had promised.

“I’m sorry!” said Oikawa when Iwaizumi berated him about the time. “I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Iwaizumi gave him a flat stare. “And you decided on that?”

Oikawa looked so offended that Iwaizumi thought he’d maybe pushed a little too far.

“You look fine,” he said, smoothing over the insult. 

“I don’t want to look _fine_ ,” Oikawa hissed. “I want to look _good_.”

“I’ve never seen you _not_ look good.”

“Do you mean that, Iwa-chan?”

“Just drive.”

They ended up at the mall as Iwaizumi had suggested, for lack of any better ideas. They wandered aimlessly, looking at window displays and browsing through some of Oikawa’s favorite shops and occasionally cracking quiet jokes at the expense of other shoppers. It wasn’t a traditional date, nor was it extravagant, but it was fun. Just being with Oikawa was fun.

“I can buy my own ice cream, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa insisted when they’d decided to take a break. “I have more money than you.”

“Just take the damn ice cream and stop complaining, Assikawa,” snarked Iwaizumi, pressing the chilled cup into his hands. “If I didn’t want to get it for you then I wouldn’t.”

Oikawa pouted as they found a table, but Iwaizumi thought he also looked a little pleased. The disagreement didn’t deter him from inhaling the treat as if he had been starving in the desert for the past month. He finished his cup before Iwaizumi was even halfway through his own and thoroughly licked his spoon in case he missed a drop.

Iwaizumi had to look away.

“Do they give free refills?” said Oikawa, craning his neck to look at the little ice cream booth tucked away in the corner of the food court. “I think they should give free refills.”

“And I think you don’t need any more sugar,” said Iwaizumi, taking a cold bite and letting it dissolve on his tongue. 

Oikawa leaned forward and poked his spoon into Iwaizumi’s cup. “Here, give me some of yours.”

Iwaizumi smacked his hand away. “You had your own!”

“Yeah, but that’s gone now.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Come on, Iwa-chan, just a bite. Yours looks better.”

“It’s literally the exact same thing!”

His resistance was feeble and futile, and Oikawa ended up polishing off the rest of his cup. Iwaizumi wasn’t all that mad about it.

They walked around for a while longer, and at some point Oikawa reached between them and slipped his fingers between Iwaizumi’s. They remained linked as they strolled along, and Iwaizumi relished the heat of Oikawa’s palm pressed against his own.

He didn’t know exactly when he’d fallen so hard for this idiot, but _damn_.

“Iwa-chan, I’m bored,” said Oikawa as they walked out of a shoe store, hands still clasped together.

Iwaizumi immediately thought about Ushijima and his warning about Oikawa’s tendency toward easy boredom.

He shook the memory away. That wasn’t relevant. This had nothing to do with Ushijima.

“Okay then,” said Iwaizumi. “What do you want to do?”

Oikawa pulled them to a stop beside a large column, out of the way of the other shoppers. He slid his gaze to Iwaizumi, and suddenly the light, easy atmosphere between them shifted.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Oikawa, his voice dipping lower. He moved closer to Iwaizumi, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Maybe I’d like to see Iwa-chan’s apartment. You can make me some hot tea and we can watch a movie.” The way he looked at Iwaizumi through his lashes insinuated that the last thing on his mind was watching a movie.

Embers burned in the pit of Iwaizumi’s stomach. He swallowed and raised a hand to graze the line of Oikawa’s jaw. “Okay,” he said, his own voice deeper than usual. “Whatever you want, Oikawa.” 

Oikawa’s smirk widened.

“Just,” said Iwaizumi, “I get to pick the movie. Your taste is terrible.” He patted the side of Oikawa’s face and turned to walk away. 

In a moment Oikawa rushed after him, an offended cry of “Iwa-chan!” on his lips.

Iwaizumi laughed.

  
  
  
  
There was a parking garage less than a block away from Iwaizumi’s apartment, which was good.

Unfortunately, Oikawa didn’t have an umbrella stored in his car so they had to rush through the rain to get to the building.

When they made it up to Iwaizumi’s door, Oikawa rushed inside without even looking around. “I need a hair dryer immediately, Iwa-chan,” he said. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“It’s right through there,” he said, pointing at a doorway, “but I don’t have a hair dryer.”

Oikawa looked at him as if he’d just said the ocean had gone dry.

“Do you hate me, Iwa-chan?” 

“Look at me. Do you really think I use a hair dryer?”

“Yes! Your hair is fluffy!”

“It’s not fluffy.”

“Whatever, Iwa-chan. I at least need a towel.”

“Come on, then.”

He showed Oikawa into the bathroom, pointed out the towels, and left him alone to tidy himself up.

Iwaizumi stripped off his coat, which had taken the brunt of the rain. He slipped out of his jeans, the cuffs of which were soaked, and replaced them with sweatpants. His button-up was suddenly too formal, so he took it off as well and padded to the kitchen in only sweatpants and a t-shirt.

The water for the tea was boiling by the time Oikawa emerged, looking somewhat less disheveled. He folded his arms and eyed Iwaizumi from across the room.

“You know I was joking about the tea,” he said, propping himself against the bedroom doorway.

Iwaizumi glanced up at him. He’d stripped off his outer shirt as well and was left in a white t-shirt that hugged his chest nicely. Iwaizumi forced himself to look away as he poured the hot water. “I know. It’s a good day for it, anyway.”

Oikawa took a few steps further into the kitchen, still studying him. “This place isn’t bad,” he said, though he’d hardly spared a glance at the apartment. “Not what I was expecting.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “What, did you think I lived in the slums?” He expected some quick retort from Oikawa, but he didn’t respond. He looked over his shoulder to find Oikawa standing close, just staring at him. 

“It’s not fair,” said Oikawa slowly, “that you look even better like this.” He gestured toward Iwaizumi’s clothing. “How, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi looked down at himself, then back to Oikawa. “That was the worst compliment I’ve ever heard.”

“Then how about this.” Oikawa moved closer and pressed Iwaizumi back against the counter, pinned by his hips. He leaned in and breathed the words onto Iwaizumi’s lips. “I’ve never been so desperate for someone to fuck me in my entire life.”

Iwaizumi shuddered, the breathy voice making heat coil in his lower body. “I guess I can’t drink my tea first?”

“You can, but I’ll start without you.”

As much as Iwaizumi would have enjoyed watching that, now was not the time.

He curled a hand around the back of Oikawa’s neck and pulled him in, crushing their lips together. The kiss was hot and insistent and full of the tension that had been brewing for weeks.

Oikawa didn’t waste any time. He laved his tongue against Iwaizumi’s lips and raked a hand over his chest and rolled their hips together. 

Iwaizumi pulled away from the kiss and bit down on a moan, the sudden friction stealing his breath.

Oikawa was undeterred. He dipped his head and licked along the length of Iwaizumi’s neck before setting his teeth against the skin and pulling lightly. 

Iwaizumi sucked in a breath and remembered the time in Oikawa’s office when he’d done the same, when they’d been interrupted before they could really get started.

There was no one to interrupt them now.

The thought made his blood burn and he seized Oikawa’s hips, spinning him and switching their positions so Oikawa was the one trapped against the counter. 

He kissed him hard, a slide of lips and tongues and teeth. His hands pushed up Oikawa’s shirt, fingers probing along the hot skin beneath, tracing lines and ribs and muscle. When he brushed over a nipple Oikawa sucked in a breath and gave Iwaizumi a look that was liquid fire.

“Don’t tease me, Iwa-chan,” he said, voice hoarse and husky. 

“What are you going to do about it?” said Iwaizumi, holding his gaze as he pinched a nipple between his fingers.

Oikawa made a choked sound and pressed into another kiss, this one more assertive. 

A moment later Iwaizumi yanked Oikawa’s shirt over his head. It floated to the ground as Iwaizumi explored Oikawa’s chest with his mouth, mapping it out in a series of kisses and licks and nips that had Oikawa twitching beneath him.

“Iwa-chan, stop,” he said, writhing under the attention. His hands were clenched in Iwaizumi’s slighty-damp hair. “Not here, let’s move…”

Iwaizumi rose and took a moment to appreciate Oikawa’s face, his breaths coming between parted lips, cheeks flushed. Then he gripped him under his thighs and lifted him, their chests pressed together, Oikawa’s legs automatically wrapping around his waist. 

“Iwa-chan, don’t!” he said, startled. 

Iwaizumi ignored him. He walked them toward the bedroom and Oikawa continued protesting.

“You can’t do this. Oh my god, Iwa-chan, I’m bigger than you. You can’t just carry me around like it’s not a big deal. Put me down.”

“Okay.” He dropped Oikawa onto the edge of the bed. He bounced once, and before he could recover Iwaizumi was on top of him, pressing him into the mattress, his mouth working at Oikawa’s neck.

Oikawa threw his head back and clenched his hands into the back of Iwaizumi’s shirt. A moment later he realized that Iwaizumi was still wearing a shirt and he pulled it over his head with little difficulty. 

Iwaizumi sat back as Oikawa threw the shirt onto the floor, still straddling Oikawa’s hips.

Oikawa stared up at him, mouth slightly open.

“Holy shit, Iwa-chan,” he mumbled, reaching up to drag a hand along Iwaizumi’s bicep. “Work out much?”

Iwaizumi glanced down at himself and then looked back at Oikawa. “I mean, I try to go to the gym a few times a week.”

Oikawa’s eyes danced from Iwaizumi’s arms, across to his chest, and down to his stomach. “Pants off. Now.”

Iwaizumi obeyed with a hint of a smile. He pushed his sweatpants past his hips and kicked them off of his legs, leaving him in only a pair of dark boxer briefs. 

Oikawa laid back and just stared at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s just amazing,” said Oikawa with a smile. “You’re almost as sexy as me.”

Iwaizumi descended on him with a growl, recapturing his mouth and sucking the playful words right off of his tongue.

Oikawa wrapped his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist and ground his hips upward. They shared a matched moan and Iwaizumi broke away, panting down at Oikawa.

He shuffled back and popped the button on Oikawa’s pants, quickly relieving him of the clothing. He crawled back over Oikawa and ground down against him, the thrill of sensation somewhat muted by the drag of cotton between them. He eased his fingers beneath the edge of Oikawa’s underwear and pulled them down slowly, enjoying the gradual reveal of pale skin.

Oikawa fidgeted, impatient, but the wait was worth it when Iwaizumi adjusted his position and hot breath ghosted across Oikawa’s exposed dick.

His hips thrust forward of their own accord but Iwaizumi held him down, hands hot against Oikawa’s skin. 

His mouth was hotter, though, as it wrapped around Oikawa’s length.

Oikawa made a very unattractive sound and buried his fingers in Iwaizumi’s hair, head thrown back against the mattress. 

Iwaizumi licked along the underside, flattened his tongue against the head, sucked down until most of Oikawa’s length was buried in his mouth. His hand wrapped around the base, squeezing, and Oikawa bit down on a moan. 

Iwaizumi kept a slow pace, bobbing his head and sucking and squeezing until Oikawa was a flustered mess beneath him.

“Stop, stop,” panted Oikawa, tugging on Iwaizumi’s hair. “I don’t want to get off like this. I want you to fuck me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi raised his head, Oikawa’s dick leaving his mouth with a _pop_.

“Oh,” he said, as if the idea just occurred to him. “I don’t have any lube.”

Oikawa’s mouth fell open. Iwaizumi lasted only a moment before he laughed and pointed to the nightstand. “I’m kidding. Top drawer, grab it for me.”

Oikawa almost refused on principle, but groped for the drawer with an offended grumble. “You’re _so mean_ ,” he said, the heat of the insult stolen by his breathlessness. “I don’t even know why I like you.”

“Because of my gym routine, apparently.”

Oikawa flung the lube at him and it struck Iwaizumi in the forehead. The impact did nothing to mitigate his mocking grin. Oikawa tried again with the condom but Iwaizumi was still smiling even as the foil slapped his cheek.

“Just get on with it!”

“Whatever you say, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi purred, dragging his tongue along Oikawa’s length one more time. 

Oikawa shuddered.

Iwaizumi spread lube on his hand and mouthed at Oikawa’s inner thigh as he slowly pressed a finger inside him. Oikawa muttered something breathy and unintelligible as Iwaizumi wriggled his finger around, stretching, before easing another one in.

Oikawa clenched around his fingers, gripping the sheets on either side of him, as Iwaizumi started working his fingers in and out, occasionally scissoring them against the resistance.

Oikawa moaned something that sounded like Iwaizumi’s name, and he bit down on his thigh, sucking against the skin. When he slid a third finger inside, Oikawa gasped and raised his head to peer down at Iwaizumi. He looked completely wrecked. “Now, Iwa-chan,” he said, trying to shift away from the probing fingers. “Stop playing and fuck me _now_.”

Iwaizumi curled his fingers once, hard, and Oikawa cried out against the sudden surge of static pleasure. Then he withdrew and wiped his wet hand on the sheets.

“You’re such a tease,” Oikawa panted, watching with fascination as Iwaizumi stripped out of his underwear and tossed them to the floor. He was as hard as Oikawa. “I hate you.”

“Your dirty talk is amazing,” said Iwaizumi. He ripped open the foil wrapper and rolled the condom on. “You should do phone sex for a living.” 

“Shut up, Iwa-chan.”

“There it is again,” said Iwaizumi as he spread lube onto himself. “Such a smooth talker. How could anyone resist you?”

Oikawa scowled, but quickly arranged his face into something seductive, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Stop playing, Iwa-chan,” he said, twisting the name into something sultry. “All I want is for you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside me, Iwa-chan, I want to feel you everywhere. I want to choke on your name when I come.” His grin widened, and when he spoke again his voice was more normal. “How’s that for dirty talk?”

Iwaizumi climbed on top of him and kissed him, both their mouths and their dicks sliding together.

“Not bad,” he said against Oikawa’s lips, “but I like you better when you’re not putting on a show.”

Oikawa blinked up at him, a little confused. 

Then Iwaizumi was lining up against his entrance and he forgot what he was confused about.

“Ready?” Iwaizumi asked, hovering over him.

“I’ve been ready since the day I met you,” Oikawa said, the words surprisingly earnest. “Fuck me.”

Iwaizumi pressed into him slowly, deeply. A moment later he was buried and they were both panting. 

“Go,” Oikawa said, urging him on with a wiggle of his hips. “I’m ready.”

“You haven’t had time to-”

“I said go!” Oikawa rolled his hips and Iwaizumi almost choked on a groan.

He pulled out and pressed in again, still slowly, but soon he was moving at a quicker pace. His thrusts were smooth and deep, sinking into Oikawa with ease. Oikawa wrapped his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist and clawed at his shoulders, broken moans pouring from his parted lips. Occasionally the syllables would resemble “Iwa-chan” and Iwaizumi’s body burned even more hotly.

“Hang on, wait,” Oikawa managed between gasps. “Roll over, let me…”

He maneuvered them so that Iwaizumi was on his back, Oikawa straddling him, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips. Without warning he started riding Iwaizumi so hard that stars burst behind his eyelids.

“Holy shit, Oikawa,” he said, the words tight. 

“Tooru,” Oikawa panted. He gripped the headboard and used it for leverage to slam more solidly onto Iwaizumi. “Call me Tooru.”

“Holy shit, Tooru,” Iwaizumi repeated. The name was like nectar on his tongue. He watched Oikawa’s muscles shift beneath pale skin, his narrow hips rolling expertly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Hair was plastered to his forehead and tangled in his eyelashes.

Iwaizumi had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He gripped Oikawa by the hips, probably with too much force, probably hard enough to bruise. He threw him onto his back and switched their positions again, slamming into Oikawa so hard that his muscles screamed from the exertion.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa grabbed his shoulders again, fingers digging into flesh. “Yes, Iwa-chan, yes, right there, like that, ah… ah, yes, Iwa-chan, _Iwa-chan_!”

Iwaizumi squeezed Oikawa’s dick in his hand and stroked it a few times, quickly. Oikawa came with a shout, his head thrown back, nails digging bloody crescents into Iwaizumi’s shoulders. 

He looked wrecked. He looked like a mess.

He looked amazing.

Iwaizumi gripped Oikawa’s hip again and thrust into him a few more times, hard, focusing on the sensation of Oikawa clenching around him. 

He came with a gasp and a shudder. Words fell from his lips but he was too far gone to notice, too far gone to care. He came hard, and when he was spent, he carefully pulled out and slumped beside Oikawa, trying to catch his breath.

After a few minutes, when their breathing settled, Oikawa said, quietly, “I think I need a shower.”

“Yeah, I probably do too.”

“Want to take one together?”

“Sure, just give me another minute.”

There was another lapse of comfortable silence. Then Oikawa said, “That might have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“You probably say that to everyone.”

“True. But usually I don’t mean it.” 

Iwaizumi looked up at him, expecting some sort of mocking expression. Oikawa looked back, face still flushed, eyes clear. 

He looked away again and pressed his face into a pillow, because he didn’t know how to respond to that. 

They showered, but it was much later than anticipated because they both fell asleep to the sound of the rain spattering against the window.

Oikawa complained for two hours about having to scrub dried come off of his stomach.


	13. Chapter 13

Iwaizumi thought things might change with Oikawa after they spent the night together, but everything remained remarkably the same. Oikawa still harassed him on a daily basis, intruding in his office and whining about random, pointless topics. Iwaizumi still made comments at his expense, to which he would receive offended “Iwa-chan!”s. It was normal. It was comfortable.

Iwaizumi didn’t know what he’d done before Oikawa and he didn’t know what he was going to do once he was gone.

On Tuesday Iwaizumi walked into his office to find a picture frame nestled beside his computer screen. In it was a snapshot of the two of them. Oikawa was showing off a perfect smile and Iwaizumi was clearly asleep, his brows furrowed even in unconsciousness. Iwaizumi hadn’t even known Oikawa had taken a picture of them.

He thought about throwing it away but couldn’t stop looking at it long enough to do so.

It remained on his desk, and he found himself staring at it frequently; when he was on the phone, when he was doing calculations in his head for the financial reports, or when he simply missed Oikawa. 

Two weeks later, interviews for the seventh floor’s new assistant supervisor took place. Iwaizumi had expected inclusion in the process, but Ushijima had chosen to conduct the interviews on his own. Iwaizumi didn’t mind too much. He’d already given his recommendation for Hanamaki, and he had no doubt that he would be awarded the position. He had the aptitude and the qualifications, and he’d already proven his devotion to the business. Before Iwaizumi had arrived, he was basically acting as the stand-in supervisor anyway. His only real competition was Semi, and though he’d been in a supervisory role at Dateko, Iwaizumi knew it wasn’t best for him to have the same position at Seijoh. 

So the day after the interviews, when Ushijima called to inform him that a decision had been made, Iwaizumi was prepared to step out of his office and congratulate Hanamaki.

“I chose Semi for the position,” said Ushijima. “I think he’s more qualified.”

The news knocked the breath from Iwaizumi’s lungs. He’d been looking at the picture of himself and Oikawa out of habit, but now he removed the phone from his ear and stared at it, as if checking to see if it was malfunctioning. Because he couldn’t have heard what he thought he’d just heard. 

He replaced the phone and said, numbly, “You _what_ ?”

“I chose Semi,” Ushijima repeated, not catching the raw disbelief in Iwaizumi’s voice. “He was the supervisor at Dateko and he interviewed quite well. He’s obviously very bright. I think he’ll go far in our company.”

“Semi,” Iwaizumi repeated, the name burning across his numb lips. “You picked Semi over Hanamaki.”

“Yes. Hanamaki was a good choice as well, but I felt this was best. I’ve emailed both of them with my decision.”

This couldn’t be happening.

“But…” Iwaizumi started, trying to string together a coherent thought. “But you didn’t even ask me about Semi! He’s the most difficult one to deal with. He has authority issues, he questions everything I tell him, he’s just… you chose _Semi_?”

Ushijima paused. “You’re not pleased.”

“No,” said Iwaizumi through gritted teeth. “I’m not.”

“I suppose I should have discussed it with you beforehand. It would not have changed my decision, though. I think this is best for the business. However, there is an opening on the eighth floor that I am planning to speak to Hanamaki about. It’s a step up for him and I think it would be a good opportunity.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t believe this. “You chose Semi,” he said slowly, “and you’re going to put Hanamaki in a different department.”

“I won’t force him, but I will highly recommend it.”

Angry thoughts buzzed in Iwaizumi’s head like a nest of hornets.

_Do you hate me? Is this a personal attack? Is this because of Oikawa?_

Despite the feeling of borderline betrayal, he knew that it hadn’t been the root of Ushijima’s decision. He’d truly made the choice that he thought would best benefit Seijoh. Ushijima wasn’t the type of man to make decisions based on grudges. He didn’t know if Ushijima was even capable of holding a grudge.

Either way, it didn’t make the current situation any more bearable.

“Okay,” said Iwaizumi, trying to keep himself calm. “Okay. Thanks for calling, Ushijima-san.”

He ended the call and stared blankly at the framed picture.

This wasn’t happening.

Semi was going to be his second-in-command. Semi, who argued with him over the most pointless of things. Semi, who insisted that Dateko’s methods were superior to Seijoh’s. Semi, who would obviously show favor to his fellow Dateko employees over the long-term members of Seijoh.

This was not going to go well.

Iwaizumi stood up. He needed to talk to Hanamaki. He didn’t know if he was going to ease the feeling of rejection or try and talk him out of transferring departments, but he needed to talk to him nonetheless.

He pushed open his office door and stepped into the main area. Before he started toward Hanamaki’s cubicle, a low-key commotion from the Dateko side of the room caught his attention.

“Congrats, Semi-san!” That was Goshiki’s voice, raised in excitement. “I knew you’d get it! It’ll be just like Dateko again now.”

Semi was leaning against the doorway of Shirabu’s cubicle. Iwaizumi couldn’t see inside, but he assumed all of the Dateko employees were gathered within, celebrating the news of Semi’s promotion. 

“Thanks, Tsutomu,” said Semi. His back was toward Iwaizumi, but his voice was clearly audible. “I’m glad for the pay raise, but it’s going to be a lot more work. I mean, I’ll practically be running the department. Iwaizumi doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He only got his job because he’s fucking the CEO’s son.”

His laugh was a short, bitter thing. 

Iwaizumi felt his blood burn hot. He took a breath and held it, trying to get himself under control.

Don’t react, don’t react, _don’t react_ …

“What did you just say?” The demand was punctuated by the sound of a desk chair hitting the floor. Kindaichi emerged from his cubicle with high shoulders and clenched fists. “What did you say about Iwaizumi-san?”

Semi turned, and he looked a little startled. He either hadn’t expected anyone to confront him or hadn’t realized he was speaking so loudly.

Everyone else was peering over the walls of their cubicles, anticipating a confrontation.

Iwaizumi stepped in before it could happen.

“It’s fine, Kindaichi,” he said, venturing forward. “Get back to work.”

If Semi had looked startled before, he was now steeped in shock. There was also a measure of dread creasing the lines of his face, as if he was only now realizing what he’d said.

“But Iwaizumi-san-”

“It’s fine,” he repeated, waving off Kindaichi’s sputtering protest. “Thank you.”

Kindaichi nodded once, shot a lingering glare toward Semi, and retreated back into his office. There was the scuffle of his chair being righted. 

Iwaizumi eyed Semi, very aware of how red his face probably was. 

He needed to end this situation before it got out of control. He needed to brush it away and move on. That was the proper thing to do as the supervisor. Even if Semi had been promoted, Iwaizumi was still the one in charge. It was his responsibility to end this.

When he opened his mouth, his voice didn’t cooperate with his brain.

“Is there something you wanted to say to me, Semi-san?”

Semi balked at the question but quickly pulled his sharp and bitter façade back into place. Behind him, Tendou peeked over the edge of the cubicle, eyes bright.

“I think you heard me, Iwaizumi-san,” said Semi plainly. 

“Get back to your desk,” Iwaizumi said slowly, “and get back to work.” He raised his voice slightly to add, “That means all of you.”

The cluster of Dateko employees dispersed quickly, all disappearing into their respective cubicles. None of them looked directly at Iwaizumi.

Semi was the last to move. He stared Iwaizumi down for another long minute before giving in and returning to his desk. There was a loud bang that sounded like his hands hitting the desk.

Iwaizumi took a breath and marched toward the elevator. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, but he knew he needed to get out of this office before he made a mistake. He’d already pushed the situation further than it should have gone. He needed to fix it now, before it got worse.

Five minutes later he found himself in front of Oikawa’s office, and wasn’t at all surprised. 

It wasn’t where he should have gone. Ushijima was the best choice, especially since he was the one who felt appointing Semi was the best idea. Maybe this new information would change his mind and he would give Hanamaki the position, as he should have done to begin with. 

He should’ve gone to Ushijima, but instead he pushed open the door to Oikawa’s office and was greeted with a wide, perfect smile.

“Iwa-chan! You never come visit me! What are you… wait, what’s wrong?”

Iwaizumi shuffled into the office and slouched into one of Oikawa’s chairs. He opened his mouth to tell Oikawa what had happened, what Semi had said, but at the last second he stopped himself.

Iwaizumi had been angry. He still was angry, but that was it. It would fade. He would get over it.

Oikawa would be enraged. He wouldn’t just sit here and talk over the situation. He would probably march down to the seventh floor and fire Semi on the spot. 

No, that would be too easy.

He would devise some type of plan to make Semi suffer until he quit on his own. That sounded more like Oikawa’s style.

Iwaizumi realized, with a flash of awareness that was like lightning in a dark room, that he couldn’t trust Oikawa with this. 

“Ushijima didn’t give Hanamaki the job,” he said, aiming for the source of the conflict rather than the conflict itself. It was true enough; this was what was wrong. “He picked Semi Eita.”

Oikawa blinked blankly back at him. “Semi?” he repeated, lip curling around the name. “The pretty one?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. He’d never really thought about it.

Oikawa reached for his phone. Iwaizumi automatically leaned forward and seized his wrist, stopping him. “What are you doing?”

“Calling Ushiwaka,” Oikawa snarled. “He can’t be that stupid.”

Iwaizumi felt validated in his decision not to relay Semi’s insult. If Oikawa would react so badly to this, he definitely couldn’t hand that.

“Don’t,” said Iwaizumi, not releasing him. “It’s already done. He already sent Semi the job offer.”

“Why would he do that? Makki is the best choice! Makki is great! Who wouldn’t want Makki?”

“I know,” said Iwaizumi. “Trust me, I know.”

Oikawa stood with a huff and paced to the end of his office, glaring out the window at the street below. The morning sun slanted in through the glass, illuminating his high cheekbones and bright eyes and copper hair. “Stupid Ushiwaka. He should’ve let you do your own interviews anyway. Just because you’ve only worked here for six months doesn’t mean you don’t know what’s best for your department.”

Iwaizumi found himself breathing a little easier. Nothing about the situation had been resolved, but something about being close to Oikawa made him feel better. He rose from his chair and approached Oikawa, coming to a stop just behind him. He looked over his shoulder at the cityscape beyond. 

He would never admit it, but the view here truly was better than the one in his own office.

It probably had something to do with the man standing in front of the windows.

“You’re beautiful,” said Iwaizumi. The words left his mouth without his consent, but he didn’t try and take them back.

Oikawa turned, face gripped by shock and fleeting vulnerability. “What?”

“You heard me,” said Iwaizumi gruffly. He grabbed the front of Oikawa’s shirt and pulled him closer. “You’re obnoxious and petty and annoying, but damn, you’re beautiful, too.”

Oikawa blinked at him, and an honest-to-god blush colored his cheeks. “You… really think so?”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Shut up, Shittykawa. As if you don’t know that already.”

He leaned close and pressed their lips together, appreciating the heat of Oikawa’s mouth. It was almost enough to make him forget about his frustrations. He could just get lost in Oikawa and forget about the problems waiting for him three floors below. He could forget about the bitterness in Semi’s face and the judgment cast on him from the other Dateko employees.

He could forget everything for a while, if only he could just have Oikawa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably can't tell from this chapter, but I love Semi Eita. Don't be too hard on him.


	14. Chapter 14

Iwaizumi didn’t even look at Semi for the rest of the week. The disregard was returned in kind.

Hanamaki wasn’t as bitter about the situation as Iwaizumi was. He took the rejection gracefully and was seriously considering Ushijima’s offer to transfer to the eighth floor. To Iwaizumi’s surprise, Matsukawa was actually trying to talk him into it. He said it was a good opportunity and Bokuto wasn’t bad to work for and Hanamaki would do well.

All of those things were true, but Iwaizumi didn’t want to admit any of it. He wanted Hanamaki to stay where he was, and although he knew his reasoning was selfish, that didn’t make him want it any less.

The Dateko guys were treading more lightly around Iwaizumi, as if they expected him to blame them for Semi’s comments. Iwaizumi treated them the same as always and waited for that cautiousness to fade.

It wasn’t until after the weekend arrived and Iwaizumi was granted a couple of days away from the office that he started to gain perspective on the situation. He had kept trying to figure out a plan to knock Semi out of the position and trade him for Hanamaki, who actually deserved it. 

He realized that wasn’t the appropriate action, because that wasn’t going to work. Iwaizumi knew Ushijima, and unless he found out about the things Semi had said – which Iwaizumi had not and would not mention to anyone, especially Oikawa Tooru – nothing was going to change. Semi was his new second-in-command, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He finally accepted the circumstances on Sunday night, after a particularly active evening in Oikawa’s penthouse apartment.

“I’m going to have to make it work,” said Iwaizumi. He was staring out of the tall glass windows of the bedroom, naked except for the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

The view from Oikawa’s apartment was even better than the one from his office.

“Make what work?” asked Oikawa. He lounged on a pile of pillows, still floating down from his orgasm.

“Semi,” said Iwaizumi. His back was turned so he didn’t see Oikawa bristle at the name. “I can’t get rid of him. I’m actually going to have to work with him.”

Oikawa scoffed. “That’s not true. I can fire him for you, Iwa-chan. Nothing would make me happier.”

His attitude toward Semi was bad enough already. Iwaizumi still couldn’t imagine how bad Oikawa’s reaction would be if he knew what Semi had said about them.

“That’s not the way to handle it,” said Iwaizumi. He sighed, and his breath fogged the window. He took a step back and turned to look at Oikawa. That view was better, anyway. “I think Hanamaki will probably go to the eighth floor. It’s what’s best for him.”

“No, becoming a supervisor would’ve been best for him. Ushijima is just a moron.”

Iwaizumi almost asked about Ushijima then. It was a good opportunity. He just had to say something like, _so what happened between you and Ushijima?_ Or maybe, _Ushijima did talk to me about you, and you’re not going to like what he said_.

Or maybe, _Has Ushijima ever stood where I am right now?_

But now wasn’t the time. 

Iwaizumi crawled back onto the bed and wrapped himself around Oikawa, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“He hired me,” said Iwaizumi, “so he can’t be all bad.”

Oikawa made a sound of discontent but didn’t comment. He ran his fingers along Iwaizumi’s arm, tracing along the ridges of his bicep. “I guess he’s not all bad,” he finally consented with a shrug. “He’s just dense as a damn rock.”

Iwaizumi’s breath caught as he recalled what Ushijima had said: _Oikawa always said I’m a little dense._

The need to question Oikawa was vibrant, pressing, but Iwaizumi swallowed his curiosity and simply held Oikawa more tightly.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think that their relationship would last forever. There was an expiration date at some undetermined point in the future. But Iwaizumi wanted it to last as long as possible, and broaching the subject of Ushijima seemed like it would send them plummeting toward that date much more quickly.

So he pushed all thoughts of Ushijima aside and kissed Oikawa with lazy affection, tasting himself when he licked into Oikawa’s mouth.

“So what are you going to do?” asked Oikawa after a while, when they’d again settled into comfortable stillness. “About Semi?”

“I’m going to stop treating him like he doesn’t deserve to have the job,” said Iwaizumi. “This isn’t his fault. I’m not helping things by being bitter.”

“So mature, Iwa-chan.”

“One of us has to be the mature one in this relationship.”

Oikawa slapped his arm half-heartedly. “Rude.”

Iwaizumi chuckled and leaned in for another quick kiss. He dusted his fingers along Oikawa’s side, drawing a feather light trail across his hip and down to his knee. He rubbed his fingers over the kneecap in a gentle caress and Oikawa’s eyes fluttered closed. 

“So you’re going to be nice to him?” Oikawa confirmed after a moment, flipping the conversation back to Semi.

“Maybe not nice, but I’m going to try not to treat him differently than anyone else.”

Oikawa frowned up at him. “Do you think he’s prettier than me, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi almost made a joke out of the question, but something about the openness in Oikawa’s expression gave him pause.

“No one is prettier than you, Tooru,” he said, brushing fingers through Oikawa’s mussed hair.

Oikawa smiled and nuzzled against Iwaizumi’s bare chest. “Correct answer, Iwa-chan.”

  
  
  
  
When he went into work the following morning, Iwaizumi was determined to enact his plan. He couldn’t do his job properly if there was a bottomless rift between him and Semi. It wasn’t good for the company and it wasn’t good for the other employees. He would fix it, whether he wanted to or not.

He was early, as always. The only person there when he arrived was Tendou, who was at work by seven-thirty every single morning.

Iwaizumi greeted him and spared a moment to ask about his weekend. Then he went to his office and drank his coffee while he waited for his computer to boot up. 

The blinds on the inner wall of his office were open. The custodial staff always did that over the weekend, probably to allow more natural light into the inner office area while they cleaned. For once Iwaizumi didn’t move to close them. He watched as his employees slowly filtered in and went to their designated cubicles, stepping off the elevator in pairs and trios until the office was full. 

Kunimi was the last to arrive at a few minutes past eight, but Iwaizumi hadn’t expected anything different from him.

Semi was always on time. Despite everything else, Iwaizumi supposed he was reliable, in some regards. 

He gave everyone time to settle in, which usually took longer on Monday mornings. It was difficult to adjust after the weekend, something that Iwaizumi understood firsthand. 

At about half past eight he picked up his phone and dialed the extension to his new second-in-command’s phone.

Semi picked up after the first ring. 

“Semi Eita.”

His phone voice was different from his speaking voice. It was deeper, smoother, and less annoying.

“Semi-san, I need to see you in my office for a moment.”

There was a tangible pause. Iwaizumi gripped the phone more tightly and waited for Semi to say no.

“I’ll be right there,” he said instead, voice inflectionless.

The call ended and Iwaizumi took a breath, eyeing the cubicles on the left side of the floor where Semi would emerge.

He expected him to take just a little too long, out of spite, but immediately he saw Semi’s head appear as he walked toward Iwaizumi’s office.

Iwaizumi looked down, not wanting to make the situation awkward by staring, and found himself looking at Oikawa’s picture again. 

Semi knocked before entering, even though the office door was ajar.

“Have a seat,” said Iwaizumi, gesturing toward the chairs arranged in front of his desk. 

Semi did so, and Iwaizumi was reminded of the last time that he’d called Semi into his office to discuss the reports that he’d refused to fix. That meeting had started much like this one but had ended badly.

He couldn’t let that happen again.

“How was your weekend?” Iwaizumi asked, offering the cursory greeting.

Semi raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I guess.”

Small talk wasn’t going to work, then.

Iwaizumi decided to get straight to the point.

“The software developer who designed our systems is implementing a large-scale update soon,” said Iwaizumi. He watched Semi as he spoke, awaiting any indication of potential hostility. “Basic functions will remain the same, but much of the more advanced operations are going to undergo some changes.” He reached into a desk drawer, removed a binder, and slid it across the desk toward Semi. “This is the information they sent detailing the changes. The update will go into effect in two weeks. I’m putting you in charge of this.”

Semi glanced down at the binder, skeptical. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with it?”

“You’re going to determine which of the changes affects our work,” said Iwaizumi, “and train the department to use the updated software. You can teach everyone individually or schedule time for a group session, whatever you think is best. I’ll leave that up to you.”

Semi just stared at him. 

“Your resume said you have some experience with software development,” said Iwaizumi. “I thought you might enjoy this project. Besides, training is part of your new position. Do you have any questions?”

Semi looked at the binder and then back at Iwaizumi. His expression was guarded, wary. “When do you want this done?”

“Ideally everyone should be trained on the new updates by next Wednesday at the latest. If you have time to make a spreadsheet to remind everyone of the more important details, that would be appreciated.”

Semi took the binder cautiously, fingers curling around the plastic edge. “Okay.”

“Take some time to look through it. Let me know if you need any more information.”

Semi nodded and stood, holding the binder slightly away from him as if he expected it to bite him. He’d almost reached the door when Iwaizumi spoke again.

“Semi-san? When I said you’ll need to train everyone, I mean myself, also. I haven’t had time to look through the updates so I’m counting on you to have all of us ready.”

Both of Semi’s eyebrows rose, one of them disappearing beneath a chunk of dip-dyed hair. “Okay. Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Semi-san.”

Semi lowered his head slightly before turning to exit the office. Through the windows, Iwaizumi saw Shirabu watching from the doorway of his cubicle. When he noticed Iwaizumi’s attention he sank out of sight.

Iwaizumi got up to close the blinds. Although it was nice being able to visually keep track of his employees, that meant that they could watch him, too. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with that, especially not during the times that Oikawa stopped by for his daily visits. 

When Iwaizumi returned to his desk, he felt a little better about the Semi situation. He was confident that Semi could complete this task with no problems. There was no question of his intellect, after all. He was obviously competent.

But just in case, Iwaizumi had read and memorized everything in that binder over the weekend. If Semi screwed up, Iwaizumi would be ready.


	15. Chapter 15

Semi did not meet Iwaizumi’s expectations for the project.

He exceeded them.

A week later Semi had prepared detailed, easy-to-read handouts for everyone that covered every facet of the looming software update. He also conducted a group training session in which Iwaizumi had to snap at Hanamaki and Matsukawa to stop writing notes to each other like schoolgirls. The presentation was relevant and thorough and at the end Semi offered to provide further information to anyone who felt they didn’t have a proper grasp on the changes.

It was more than Iwaizumi had expected, and he felt a little ashamed of himself for having so much doubt in Semi. He’d thought that a bitter personality would prevent Semi from doing his job, and he’d been wrong.

In fact, much of that bitterness seemed to have faded. Semi was nothing but polite, and it was almost hard for Iwaizumi to believe that Semi had ever said anything negative about him.

He found himself starting to like Semi just a little bit.

But he still liked Hanamaki better.

Iwaizumi stopped outside the doorway of Hanamaki’s cubicle. He’d opened his mouth in preparation to speak, but the sight of Matsukawa draped halfway across Hanamaki’s shoulders as they both squinted as his computer screen made the words die on his tongue.

As he watched, Matsukawa leaned over and pointed to something on the screen. “Change that. It sounds pretentious,” he mumbled.

“Stop leaving smudges on my screen,” said Hanamaki, smacking his hand away. He started typing, presumably fixing the mistake that Matsukawa had pointed out.

Iwaizumi watched them for a minute. Then he cleared his throat, loudly.

Hanamaki spun his chair around too quickly, striking Matsukawa in the knees and making him limp a step backward. They both stared at Iwaizumi wide-eyed, as if they’d been caught in the middle of something illicit.

Before Iwaizumi could even ask, Matsukawa said, “Sorry, Iwaizumi-san. We were just reviewing something. Did you need us?”

Iwaizumi looked from him to Hanamaki and raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s my email to Ushijima,” Hanamaki explained without further prompting. “I’m turning down the job on the eighth floor.”

Iwaizumi tried not to be too pleased by the news. “It’s a better position. Why would you do that?”

Hanamaki shrugged. He glanced at Matsukawa before continuing. “I mean, it’s not exactly a promotion. It pays the same. It’s basically just a department transfer, and I’ve never really wanted to end up in finance. So I’m just going to stay here.”

“I would be thrilled to have you stay,” said Iwaizumi, “but make sure you choose what’s best for you, alright?”

Hanamaki nodded. “I know. I am.”

“Staying is best.” That was Yahaba’s voice, coming from the adjacent cubicle. “Semi is probably getting fired right now anyway. Hanamaki can have his job instead.”

Suddenly Hanamaki and Matsukawa looked extremely uncomfortable. Iwaizumi looked at the cubicle wall that obscured Yahaba and then back to the duo. “Getting fired?” he asked no one in particular.

Yahaba’s head popped up over the low cubicle wall. “Well maybe. He got called up to Oikawa’s office. That can’t be good, right?”

Matsukawa shifted awkwardly. Iwaizumi caught the movement in his peripheral vision and pinned him with a sharp stare. “Which Oikawa?”

“Not the CEO,” answered Hanamaki. “ _Your_ Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi was too concerned with the situation to be pleased by that phrasing.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Yahaba. “The younger Oikawa can fire him, too.” He ducked back down out of sight.

Iwaizumi was still looking at Matsukawa.

“What did he want to speak with Semi about?”

Matsukawa shrugged. “Semi just told us that’s where he was going. That’s all.”

Iwaizumi didn’t look away. 

Matsukawa fidgeted a little and started talking again. “It’s probably about that thing that happened between you and Semi a couple of weeks ago. The thing he said about you and Oikawa.”

An icy spike of tension dug into the space between Iwaizumi’s shoulderblades. “How did he know about that?”

Matsukawa looked to Hanamaki for help. 

“Well we assumed he knew,” said Hanamaki, jumping to his friend’s defense. “The two of you are together all the time. That’s something we thought you’d tell him. It just seems obvious.”

“You told him?”

“Not directly,” said Matsukawa. “We ran into Oikawa in the lobby earlier and we were talking and I might’ve kind of mentioned it a little bit.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but the tight line of his mouth suggested he felt otherwise.

“What did you say?” Iwaizumi’s voice was level, which was impressive. He was itching to get through this conversation.

Matsukawa shrugged again. “He asked how Semi was doing and I said he was doing fine, especially considering the falling out that he had with you. Oikawa kept asking questions about it. I didn’t realize you hadn’t told him or I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“When did Semi go upstairs?”

They exchanged a look.

“Ten minutes ago?” offered Hanamaki. 

Five seconds later Iwaizumi slapped the elevator panel, demanding a ride to the tenth floor.

Matsukawa’s voice called after him. “I’m sorry, Iwaizumi-san!”

“It’s fine,” he said. He pressed the button again. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Shirabu crept around the corner just as Iwaizumi was restraining the urge to kick the elevator doors. 

“Iwaizumi-san?” he asked quietly. When he was visually acknowledged he said, “Semi-san isn’t really getting fired, is he?”

Iwaizumi hit the elevator button again, this time just as it arrived. As the doors slid open he said, “No, he’s not getting fired.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. No one is getting fired.” He stepped inside and urgently pressed the button for the tenth floor until the doors closed.

The elevator ride lasted about twenty seconds. 

It felt like two hours.

When the doors slid open Iwaizumi started toward Oikawa’s office at a brisk pace. He didn’t even glance at Ushijima, who’d paused to watch him pass by, his pen hovering an inch above a stack of documents.

The door to Oikawa’s office was cracked open. Iwaizumi stopped to take a breath before barging in, but hesitated when he heard Semi’s voice from within.

“Oikawa-san, I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” said Semi plainly. It was his usual tone, blunt and somewhat bored, and Iwaizumi felt himself relax a little. Maybe he’d underestimated Oikawa. Maybe he could handle this situation maturely, with a simple conversation. 

“That’s because you’re not listening properly, Semi-chan,” said Oikawa, his singsong voice immediately putting Iwaizumi back on edge. There was the sound of movement inside, shoes scuffing against the floor. Oikawa’s voice dipped lower, but Iwaizumi could still hear him. “Do I need to spell it out for you? Or should I just _show_ you what I mean?”

That tone of voice made Iwaizumi shudder. He pressed his face closer to the door, peering into the room as well as he could without alerting Oikawa to his presence.

Semi was seated in one of the chairs in front of Oikawa’s desk. Oikawa was in front of him, hands planted on the arms of the chair, their faces so close that Semi could probably feel Oikawa’s breath.

Iwaizumi’s stomach lurched. He’d been worried, but not about this.

“Oikawa-san…?”

“Hush hush, Semi-chan,” said Oikawa. His voice was lilting, playful. “I know you find me attractive, right? Everyone does. Tell me, Semi-chan. Tell me you think I’m attractive.”

“What? Oikawa-san, I don’t really-”

“Don’t be shy,” said Oikawa. He raised a hand and brushed his fingers along Semi’s cheekbone, gently. 

Iwaizumi felt sick.

He’d thought Oikawa had kept talking about Semi’s looks because he was jealous, because he was worried that Iwaizumi would start to like Semi.

He hadn’t thought Oikawa was interested. 

Was this what Ushijima had meant? Oikawa got bored easily. Maybe he was already bored of Iwaizumi and had decided to move on. Maybe Iwaizumi was getting replaced by Semi.

Maybe Iwaizumi really was an idiot after all.

He didn’t want to watch anymore. He wanted to turn around and go back to his office and try and forget he’d seen any of this, but his legs wouldn’t move. He was frozen, glued to the nauseating display.

He wondered if this was how Ushijima felt when he saw Oikawa and Iwaizumi together.

“Don’t you like me, Semi-chan?” Oikawa purred. He brushed his fingers lightly through Semi’s hair. 

Semi shrank away from the touch. “Oikawa-san, please. I don’t understand why you called me up here.”

“I don’t think I can be much more obvious,” said Oikawa. “I want you, Semi-chan. I want you to bend me over this desk and fuck me.”

Something brutal and ugly twisted in Iwaizumi’s chest. He felt a surge of nausea so powerful that his legs almost buckled.

Semi leaned as far away from Oikawa as the small space would allow. “Oikawa-san, please stop.”

Oikawa didn’t move. “Why, Semi-chan? This is what you want too, isn’t it?” 

He smiled, and it cut straight through Iwaizumi. 

This wasn’t the smile that Iwaizumi had learned to love. It wasn’t the one he’d seen when they’d held hands at the mall, or when they’d cuddled in Iwaizumi’s bed, or when Oikawa had teased Iwaizumi about his resting bitch face.

This was a smile that Iwaizumi had only seen a handful of times, but still recognized.

It was the smile that Oikawa had worn during the phone call with Futakuchi, the one he wore when he was angry at Ushijima but still needed to maintain his professionalism.

It was the smile of a predator that was about to tear into someone’s throat.

“Surely it’s what you want,” said Oikawa, his tone making the room feel ten degrees colder. “You got one promotion already, so I’m sure you want another. The best way to get ahead is to fuck the CEO’s son, right? According to you, that’s what Iwaizumi is doing. He only has his job because he fucks me. Well, Semi-chan, he fucks me good, so I hope you can do better.”

Semi tried to stand but Oikawa shoved a hand against his chest and forced him back down.

Oikawa wasn’t smiling anymore. His face contorted into an ugly snarl that Iwaizumi had never seen.

“Do you really think you can talk to him like that and keep working here, you piece of shit?” hissed Oikawa. “I hope you enjoyed your time here because I’ll personally make sure you’ll never get a job in this city again.”

Iwaizumi pushed the door open so hard it bounced against the wall.

Oikawa looked up at him, cold fury bleeding into surprise. 

Semi twisted in his chair to look behind him. His face was flushed, eyes desperate.

Iwaizumi was ashamed that he hadn’t interrupted sooner.

“Iwa-chan!” said Oikawa breezily. He stood upright, freeing Semi from the cage of his arms. “I was just talking about you.”

“I know,” said Iwaizumi through gritted teeth. He forced himself to look away from Oikawa and found Semi staring at him, distress etched into the lines of his face. “Semi, get back to your office.”

Semi stood, but Oikawa’s voice stopped him. “Don’t be silly, Iwa-chan. Semi doesn’t have an office anymore.”

Iwaizumi’s glare was so sharp that Oikawa’s expression flickered. “Yes, he does. Semi, go.”

Semi rushed to do as asked. As he passed, he gave a quick bow and a murmured, “Thank you, Iwaizumi-san,” before retreating.

When he was gone Iwaizumi offered Oikawa his complete, burning attention.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Oikawa seemed genuinely confused. “What do you mean, Iwa-chan? I’m fixing everything! You can get rid of Semi and Makki can have his job and everything will be good again.” He paused and then added, with a bit more venom, “And I could have done it two weeks ago if you’d told me what that piece of shit said to you. Why wouldn’t you tell me that, Iwa-chan?”

“Because I knew you’d do something stupid like this!” said Iwaizumi. His voice was too loud and he didn’t care. “You can’t treat people like that, Oikawa!”

“Actually, you’ll find that I can,” said Oikawa. “I’m the boss, remember?”

“Fuck you.”

“What is your _problem_?” Oikawa seemed more exasperated than angry. “I’m trying to help you. He said you’re only doing well because we’re fucking. Is that what you want people to think?”

“I don’t _care_ ,” he ground out, “about what people think. If I did then I wouldn’t be dating _you_.”

Oikawa looked a little hurt by that statement, and if Iwaizumi had been less angry he might have cared.

“Why are you standing up for him?” said Oikawa. “You don’t like him, either.”

“He’s not that bad. You’re not firing him.”

Oikawa’s brows dipped into a scowl. “Now you’re defending Semi-chan. You do think he’s pretty, don’t you? You can have him if you want, but honestly, it will be a downgrade for you.”

“The same way you downgraded from Ushijima when you started going out with me?”

The anger dripped away from Oikawa’s face. The difference was stark, silent. Iwaizumi knew he’d crossed a line but was still too angry to regret it.

They just stared at one another, Oikawa shocked, Iwaizumi furious.

“I…” started Oikawa, the sentence fracturing. “Who told you?”

“No one had to. I’m not stupid, Oikawa.”

Oikawa’s eyes shifted to the side. “I didn’t say you were.”

“How long were you with him?” asked Iwaizumi. “How long did you fuck around with him until you got bored and moved on?”

Oikawa winced. He shifted beneath Iwaizumi’s glare, and for a moment he thought he wouldn’t answer. “I didn’t get bored. It wasn’t like that, Iwa-chan.”

“Then what was it like?”

“It didn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

Oikawa finally looked at him again, a spark back in his eyes. “Because it didn’t! You can’t come in here and get mad at me over my past relationships. It’s none of your business!”

“You’re right!” shouted Iwaizumi. “It isn’t! Go fuck yourself, Oikawa.”

He turned and stormed out of the office. Oikawa might have called after him; he didn’t notice. Ushijima might have been standing in the doorway of his own office, alerted by the yelling; he didn’t notice that, either.

He didn’t notice anything at all until about an hour later, when Semi came by his office to apologize and to thank him for protecting his job. 

Iwaizumi told him that his gratitude wasn’t necessary. 

Semi left, and Iwaizumi continued staring at the picture of Oikawa on his desk. 

He wondered if he’d ever get to see him smile like that again.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to say this - I really, really hate to say this - but this fic is almost over. I thought I should warn you guys instead of just springing it on you next week. I thought I would be a little relieved, but I'm mostly just sad. >.<

Oikawa didn’t visit Iwaizumi’s office the following day, or the day after that. Iwaizumi hadn’t really been expecting him to, but when the days dragged on and Oikawa didn’t make an appearance, something like sour regret bubbled in his stomach.

Iwaizumi shouldn’t have said anything about Ushijima. It had been a low blow and he knew it. He’d just been so angry that he hadn’t been able to hold it back anymore. He’d always had problems with his temper, but over the past few years he’d thought he’d gotten it under control.

Clearly he’d been wrong.

He didn’t tell anyone about the incident, but Hanamaki and Matsukawa seemed to have a fairly good idea, anyway. They took him to dinner twice that week and forced him into animated conversations that were specifically structured to avoid all topics that could somehow lead to Oikawa. 

He wondered if Semi had told them what had happened. 

Semi had told the Dateko guys, at least. It was obvious in the way that they were suddenly much friendlier to Iwaizumi, as if some preexisting barrier between them had been broken.

He’d defended their leader, and that made them accept him.

All of the acceptance in the world couldn’t make up for the emptiness he felt without Oikawa.

It was pathetic, really. Oikawa had only been in his life for half a year. They’d been in a relationship for much less than that. His absence shouldn’t affect Iwaizumi’s life so completely, as if the axis of his personal world had shifted to revolve around Oikawa Tooru. It was pathetic. 

Even more pathetic was how many times he picked up his phone to call Oikawa and apologize, and ended up flinging it away again and burying his face in his hands.

He’d fucked up, but Oikawa had, too. 

He didn’t think they were going to get through this.

Iwaizumi went about his work as usual, although the brightest point of his day was missing. His did his paperwork and ran his reports and acted as a babysitter to his employees. Semi was good at babysitting, too. Occasionally they would look at each other when refereeing some stupid argument between Tendou and Kindaichi and Semi would smile, as if trying to connect with him. 

Iwaizumi could only think about how much more dazzling Oikawa’s smile was.

A week passed. It was possibly the longest and most miserable week of Iwaizumi’s life. 

Iwaizumi likely would have suffered along at that rate indefinitely if Semi hadn’t dropped by his office on Thursday afternoon, after most of the others had left.

Iwaizumi had turned down another dinner invitation with Hanamaki and Matsukawa. He planned to stay late and keep working, because at least if he was working he wasn’t thinking about Oikawa.

Except when his eyes strayed to the picture that he hadn’t had the heart to move. It still sat proudly next to his computer screen, Oikawa’s smile bright against the backdrop of Iwaizumi’s sleeping face.

“Iwaizumi-san?” said Semi, lingering in the open doorway. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course, come in.”

Semi stepped inside and shut the door, which was unusual. Iwaizumi chose not to question it.

Semi shuffled further inside and sat on the edge of one of the office chairs, watching Iwaizumi almost warily.

“What do you need, Semi-san?”

There was a heavy pause. Tension ebbed into the air, and Iwaizumi couldn’t guess the source. He and Semi had been working together quite well lately. He didn’t know what the problem could be.

“I apologize,” said Semi, lowering his head, “for what I said about you and Oikawa-san.”

That had been the last thing Iwaizumi expected. 

“What?”

Semi bowed his head lower. “I didn’t mean it, even then. I know you’re good at your work, Iwaizumi-san. I was just pleased that I’d gotten the promotion, and I was… I was _vindictive_.” He raised his head and chanced a glance at Iwaizumi before quickly looking at the floor. “Ever since we found out about the merger I was worried about my department. I knew I would lose my position as a supervisor, but I could live without it. I was worried that the people at Seijoh would treat us badly because of the circumstances. When we got here, I was worried that you in particular would treat us badly. I thought you would favor your Seijoh employees.”

Iwaizumi just stared at him. “I would never do that.”

“I know,” said Semi quickly. “I know, now. At the time I didn’t. People have treated me badly all my life, but the other guys don’t deserve that. I was worried for them, so that’s why I acted the way I did. I really do apologize, Iwaizumi-san. I was wrong.”

It was the most that Iwaizumi had ever heard Semi speak about himself, and it was also the most genuine he’d ever sounded. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Everything worked out. I’m glad you came to Seijoh. I’m lucky to have all of you.”

Semi nodded in acknowledgement, but said, “Everything didn’t work out. I messed up your relationship with Oikawa-san.”

“We don’t have a relationship.”

“Not anymore,” said Semi, “and that’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s his. Semi, this really isn’t something you need to apologize for.”

“Yes, it is. You were angry at Oikawa-san for the way he treated me but he was right. I would have done the same, if someone had insulted someone I loved. He was protecting you. It was nothing I didn’t deserve.”

Iwaizumi wanted to argue with him, but something in his brain got hung up on the word _love_. Semi thought that Iwaizumi loved Oikawa.

That was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

Wasn’t it?

“You were happier before,” said Semi. “Everyone has noticed. Please don’t let my mistakes affect your relationship, Iwaizumi-san. I respect you and I think you deserve to be happy.”

Iwaizumi wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that, so he gave the easiest reply. “Thank you.”

Semi bowed his head again and rose. “I’m leaving, but please consider what I said. Oikawa-san wasn’t wrong in what he did. I’ve done worse for someone I care about.”

The statement was vague, ominous, and it lingered in the air as Semi exited Iwaizumi’s office. 

Semi was quite intimidating enough in his natural state. Iwaizumi wondered what he looked like truly angry.

He looked at the picture again.

Oikawa was smiling so widely that his eyes crinkled at the corners. His teeth were perfect, just like every other physical part of him was perfect. His personality was the only thing that could stand improvement, and yet Iwaizumi wouldn’t have changed a single thing about him.

Did he actually love Oikawa?

The true question was if it even mattered. They hadn’t spoken in a week, and the lack of communication had been mutual. Oikawa hadn’t gone out of his way to contact Iwaizumi, either. 

It was probably too late.

It was fine, though. Iwaizumi had lived without Oikawa Tooru up until six months ago. He could do it again, easily.

He could live without the view from Oikawa’s penthouse, which he had trouble appreciating because he couldn’t look away from Oikawa for more than ten seconds at a time.

He could live without waking up with Oikawa’s legs tangled between his and a face full hair that smelled like summer rain.

He could live without that ridiculous pout and the whiny, repetitive “Iwa-chan” that was absolutely obnoxious but at the same time so endearing that it was almost physically painful.

He could live without all of it.

But he didn’t want to.

He was on the elevator before he’d completely decided what he was doing, pressing the “10” button without hesitation. 

Oikawa was probably already gone for the day. It was half past five. There was no plausible reason for him to stay this late when the company wasn’t hosting any big projects.

Still, Iwaizumi’s heart was in his throat when he stepped onto the tenth floor.

He started blindly toward Oikawa’s office, not sure if he was more nervous that it would be empty or occupied.

He didn’t even make it halfway down the hall. When he drew even with Ushijima’s office the voices from within brought him to a solid halt.

The door was standing open. Ushijima sat at his desk like it was a throne. 

Across from him was Oikawa, slumped in one of the office chairs with his back toward the doorway.

Ushijima saw Iwaizumi first. He cut his sentence short and just looked at him.

After a moment Oikawa’s irritation peaked and he snapped something at Ushijima before turning to check the doorway himself.

His face went immediately blank.

That wasn’t a good sign.

Iwaizumi should make up an excuse for his presence. He should say he needed to talk to Ushijima. It would be an easy excuse. There were probably several things with which Iwaizumi could use Ushijima’s help.

He shouldn’t try to get Oikawa back. It would be easier for the both of them if he just let it go. 

He’d been hurt already. He didn’t want to risk it again.

But Iwaizumi thought having his heart torn out by Oikawa would hurt less than living without him.

He opened his mouth to ask Oikawa if he could talk to him, but that wasn’t what he ended up saying.

“I fucked up.”

The words were brash and simple, bold enough to make Oikawa’s eyebrows rise. 

Iwaizumi tried to continue, but his words failed him. He shut his mouth again and looked away, trying to wrangle his thoughts back into working order.

“If you’ve made a mistake on a report,” said Ushijima, “it can easily be fixed.”

Iwaizumi looked up at him, confused.

“That’s not what he meant, you idiot,” snapped Oikawa, more heat than necessary in his voice. But when he looked back to Iwaizumi, there was no sign of anger. His mouth was turned down on one side as he considered Iwaizumi with a furrowed brow. “That’s not what you meant, right?”

“No. I mean I fucked up with you.”

Oikawa turned back around, eyes focused somewhere on the floor between his feet. “It’s okay, Iwa-chan. Don’t worry about it.”

The way he said it was so carefree, so dismissive, that Iwaizumi felt himself begin to get angry. He swallowed it down and tried to keep his voice level. “Of course I’m worried about it, Oikawa. I fucked up and I need to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Iwaizumi’s stomach dropped. It really was too late, then.

“Oh,” he said, feeling all of those heated emotions freeze over. “Okay then.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. He turned to walk away, but then Ushijima spoke.

“Tooru thinks you don’t like him anymore,” said Ushijima. His voice was a steady rumble. “He hasn’t been speaking to you because he thinks you’re mad. If you could please settle things I would be grateful. His whining is having a detrimental impact on my work.”

Oikawa looked horrified. “Ushiwaka!”

“I told you to go talk to him,” said Ushijima firmly. “You’re being dense, Tooru. Get out of my office and talk with Iwaizumi.”

“ _I’m_ dense?” repeated Oikawa, appalled. “Did you just say I’m dense?”

“If you really think I don’t like you anymore,” said Iwaizumi, “then yeah, you’re pretty dense.”

Oikawa whipped his head around to look at him. Iwaizumi looked back.

“We need to talk,” said Iwaizumi. “Let’s go to your office.”

It took Oikawa a moment to respond. Finally he stood and brushed nonexistent dirt off of his pants. “Sure, I guess. Was that all you needed, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Ushijima’s stare was flat. “You came here to complain about how much you miss Iwaizumi.”

“Shut up!”

There was a flutter in Iwaizumi’s stomach that he couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of. Maybe it was pleasure at Oikawa’s embarrassment. More likely it was relief, because if Oikawa had missed him then it meant maybe everything hadn’t been ruined.

Oikawa brushed past Iwaizumi without looking at him and started toward his office. Iwaizumi followed at a slower pace, still trying to piece together his apology. 

When they entered the office and Oikawa shut the door, that apology was rendered unnecessary.

“Stop making that face, Iwa-chan, you look constipated,” said Oikawa. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, shoulders slumped, almost as if he was trying to become smaller. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did to Semi. I should’ve let you deal with it on your own. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Ushijima, but it’s just something I don’t like to talk about. I mean, I went out with _Ushiwaka_. It’s embarrassing. Please don’t be mad at me anymore, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m not mad at you. I thought you were still mad at me.”

Oikawa blinked at him. “I was never mad at you. Why did you think I was mad at you?”

“I don’t know, maybe because of all the yelling?”

“You were the one yelling, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi sighed. 

They were both idiots.

“We were both yelling,” he said. “I’m sorry, Oikawa. I shouldn’t have attacked you about Ushijima like that. It really isn’t my business.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Oikawa scoffed. “Of course it’s your business. All of my past relationships are now officially your business. I’ll make you a list if you’d like.”

“A list of the most miserable humans in the world. I guess I would be number one.”

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi smiled; he couldn’t help it. He was just so _relieved_.

After a moment of pouting Oikawa smiled back. “I really am sorry, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi held his arms out, an invitation. Oikawa didn’t even hesitate. He stepped forward and allowed himself to be enfolded, his own arms slipping around Iwaizumi’s lower back.

“Me too,” Iwaizumi murmured into Oikawa’s ear. “Sorry.”

The embrace lasted for a long moment, until Iwaizumi spoke again.

“So you missed me, huh?”

Oikawa pushed him away with a scowl that wasn’t quite believable. “Shut up! You can’t believe anything Ushiwaka says. He’s full of testosterone and lies.”

“So you didn’t miss me?”

Oikawa shrugged and looked away. “I mean, maybe a little bit. Not as much as you missed me.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true.”

Oikawa blinked at him, surprised by the admission.

“Let’s go somewhere and talk,” Iwaizumi suggested. “We’ve been out of touch for a week. I think we’ve got a little catching up to do.”

“Sure, whatever you want.”

“Should we invite Ushijima? I’d like to hear more about how much you missed me.”

“Shut up, Iwa-chan.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, this is it.
> 
> This was my first foray into the Haikyuu fandom, and obviously I'm now here to stay! I had so much fun with this fic. I've gotten so many kudos and comments and I appreciate every single one of them. You guys have just been great. 
> 
> I have a couple of other fics going and I'm working on a couple more, so you haven't seen the last of me. ^^
> 
> Thank you all so, so much! I hope you enjoy the last chapter!

After they left the office, Oikawa and Iwaizumi went to a nearby café. They ordered coffee and spent the next hour sitting across from each other, basking in the warmth and the buzz of the other patrons’ conversations. At first it was hard to start talking. The weight of the week’s silence was too heavy to breach. When they started, it was a flood.

“We dated for a little less than a year,” said Oikawa, staring into the surface of his coffee. “It ended a couple of months before you started working at Seijoh. It wasn’t an easy breakup.”

“You really don’t have to tell me about it,” said Iwaizumi, “if you don’t want to.”

Oikawa shrugged. “You deserve to know. He already told me he had a talk with you.” He looked up at Iwaizumi through his lashes. “You didn’t tell me that, Iwa-chan.”

“Clearly you had a problem with him and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Shut up, Shittykawa.”

The banter was easy, familiar. It would’ve been stranger if they’d maintained mutual politeness.

“He thinks I left him because I was bored,” said Oikawa. He took a sip of his drink. He’d ordered a cappuccino with so much caramel drizzle that it made Iwaizumi’s teeth hurt just thinking about it. “Dense idiot. I left him because we didn’t understand each other. There was always this rift between us, you know? I could never quite get on his level and he could never get on mine. It was like a disconnect. At first it wasn’t a big deal, but the longer we were together…” He trailed off and shrugged. “It just got too hard. It was easier to just break it off. He didn’t take it well. He caught me flirting with one of the new interns a week later and thought I was just bored of him.” Oikawa laughed, but it was bitter. “I was just messing with that intern. I wasn’t interested. If he’d known me that well he would’ve known that.”

Iwaizumi remembered what Hanamaki had said on his first day at the office: _“You should’ve seen what he did to Ushijima.”_

Iwaizumi tried to picture Ushijima having an emotional reaction to their breakup. He couldn’t imagine him crying or shouting or sulking. He couldn’t imagine him becoming very emotional at all. 

That had probably been the problem between him and Oikawa. Oikawa needed to be connected to the world around him. He needed to participate and thrive and _feel_.

Ushijima kept himself in a cage of his own making, refusing to experience much of the world around him.

It wasn’t surprising that their relationship had come to an end.

“What about before him?” said Iwaizumi. He raised an eyebrow as he asked, so Oikawa would know he wasn’t serious. “Do you make a habit of sleeping with your employees?”

Oikawa hummed and tilted his gaze upward, as if considering the question. “Not really. Ushijima was the first.” He dropped his eyes back down to Iwaizumi with a smirk. “And I’m pretty sure you’ll be the last.”

Iwaizumi felt a rush of heat on his face at the coy comment. 

“Aren’t you going to ask any personal questions?” asked Oikawa, leaning closer over the table. “Like, how was he in bed? Or if we ever fucked in his office? Or if he’s bigger than-”

“No,” said Iwaizumi, bringing the questions to a quick halt. “I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is that you’re with me now, not him. That’s all that matters.”

Oikawa smiled. “Oh, Iwa-chan. You’re so romantic.”

“Shut up, Shittykawa.”

They left the café a while later, walking back toward the office to retrieve Oikawa’s car. They’d decided to drive to Iwaizumi’s apartment and stay there for the night. Iwaizumi missed the sight of Oikawa wrapped up in his sheets, and the smell of his shampoo on his pillows.

He even missed Oikawa’s hair clogging the shower drain, which was pathetic.

He reached out and laced his fingers with Oikawa’s as they walked. It had only been a week, but it felt like so much longer since he’d reached out and touched him. It was comforting.

He promised himself he’d never ignore Oikawa again, no matter what the idiot did.

“Hey, Tooru,” he said quietly, pulling him a little closer by their linked hands.

“Hmm?”

Iwaizumi looked at him. Oikawa’s face was lit by streetlights and business signs and the headlights of passing cars. His hair fell perfectly and his eyelashes were long and his skin was porcelain. 

“I love you.”

Oikawa stopped walking. People bustled past them, jostling them a bit, but neither of them noticed. They looked at each other as if they were the only two people in the city. 

Oikawa threw his arms around Iwaizumi and buried his face in his neck. Iwaizumi held him close, nuzzling into his hair.

“I love you too,” Oikawa said, breath hot against his skin. “Iwa-chan, I love you so much.”

They stood there too long, but neither cared. 

Iwaizumi would have stood there for the rest of his life, as long as Oikawa was there with him. 

  
  
  
  
Things mostly returned to normal. They went about the same routines. Oikawa still harassed Iwaizumi at least once daily, but now he also took the time to tease Hanamaki or throw paper wads at Matsukawa or even stop by Semi’s office and force him into idle conversation. Semi was stiff and awkward around him, but Iwaizumi thought he would eventually thaw. Oikawa had the ability to make anyone like him, if he tried hard enough.

Ushijima even came down occasionally, though he rarely had a good reason. Mostly he would ask Iwaizumi about something for which a phone call would have sufficed, and then stop by Tendou’s cubicle on his way out. The first time Iwaizumi ever heard Ushijima laugh was following one of Tendou’s stupid jokes. Tendou had grinned like an idiot and Iwaizumi had turned away to hide his own smile.

Everything seemed to be working out. Iwaizumi was at ease.

Then one day just before he packed up to leave, his phone rang.

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Iwaizumi-san,” said a high-pitched female voice. “Oikawa-san would like to see you in his office.”

Iwaizumi blinked. His mind had gone to Oikawa immediately, but he didn’t think that was who she meant. “Oikawa-san?” he repeated.

“Yes, in his office on the eleventh floor.”

Iwaizumi’s stomach rolled.

He’d never been summoned to the CEO’s office.

It couldn’t be good.

“Yes. I’ll be right up,” he said, managing to keep his voice steady. He ended the call and stared at his phone for a moment before standing.

He couldn’t feel his steps as he made his way to the elevator. It was almost as if he was floating along, but not in a good way. It was more like his legs had been chopped off at the knees and he could no longer feel them.

“Iwaizumi-san?” Semi stood in the doorway of his cubicle, watching Iwaizumi with something that may have been concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” said Iwaizumi. The words tumbled numbly from his lips. “Could you close out the daily reports for me? I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

“Of course,” said Semi. 

He was still watching Iwaizumi as he got on the elevator and pressed the button for the eleventh floor.

Iwaizumi took the short ride in silence. He tried not to think about the worst-case scenario, but he thought about it anyway.

The CEO had discovered that his son was sleeping with Iwaizumi. 

Obviously Oikawa wasn’t going to be fired.

Iwaizumi was the expendable one.

His palms were sweating when he stepped off the elevator. He’d only been to the CEO’s office once before, when he’d first been hired. It had been a bright occasion, full of smiles and handshakes and “thank you”s. 

This time the light was dim and the entire floor was silent. 

Iwaizumi stepped up to the assistant’s desk, which is who he’d assumed had called him. She was nowhere in sight, and the neat state of the desk indicated she’d already left for the day. 

He hesitated, but then stepped past the desk and headed straight for the CEO’s office. The door was shut and he stood in front of it for a minute too long, trying to keep himself calm.

He could find another job. It would be fine. As long as he still had Oikawa, everything would be fine. 

He loved his job, and the guys who worked for him, but Oikawa was worth more.

He knocked, and a voice from inside said, “Enter.”

Iwaizumi stepped in and pushed the door shut behind him. He took a breath, raised his head, and opened his mouth to offer a greeting.

The Oikawa waiting for him, however, wasn’t the CEO.

Iwaizumi’s breath left him in an audible exhale. His shoulders sagged with relief. “Oikawa, what the hell?”

Oikawa grinned. “You look so nervous, Iwa-chan. My dad isn’t that scary, is he?” He tilted his head to the side and took a sip of wine from the crystal glass clutched in his long, pale fingers.

It was only then that Iwaizumi looked at him properly. Oikawa was seated on the edge of the CEO’s desk, his legs hanging off the side, feet bare. His jacket had been tossed over a chair and his dress shirt hung open, his teal silk tie laying against his bare chest. His cheeks were flushed, mouth curled in an inviting smirk.

“What are you doing?”

“Celebrating,” said Oikawa. He reached for the other wine glass on the desk and held it out toward Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi padded across the floor and accepted the glass. He looked down at the rich red wine and then back up at Oikawa. “Celebrating what?”

Oikawa made a wide gesture. “This,” he said. “My future office. Dad’s on a business trip, but when he gets back he wants to discuss the possibility of stepping back from the company a little. He thinks I’m ready to take more responsibility.” He grinned. “Do you know what that means, Iwa-chan?”

“That your dad is actually an idiot?”

“Rude, Iwa-chan!” He reached out and seized the front of Iwaizumi’s shirt, pulling him closer. He wrapped his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist and leaned in, his lips brushing against Iwaizumi’s ear. “It means I’m _everyone’s_ boss and you have to do exactly what I say.”

Iwaizumi pulled back just enough to scowl at him. “I don’t think so, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa laughed. “I’m kidding, Iwa-chan. But seriously, he’s probably going to mostly be working from home now. Which means I’ll get his office.” He took a sip of wine, smirking at Iwaizumi over the rim. “I think we should break it in properly.”

Iwaizumi felt a spike of heat at the suggestion. Despite that, he shook his head and said, “We’re not having sex in this office. If we want to do that we can just go back to your place. It will take fifteen minutes.”

Oikawa’s legs tightened, pulling him closer. He brushed his lips against Iwaizumi’s ear again. “But I can’t wait, Iwa-chan.” The whisper sent a shudder down Iwaizumi’s spine. “I need it now. I got so impatient that I started without you.”

Iwaizumi tried to pull back but Oikawa’s hand curled around the base of his neck, holding him there. 

Iwaizumi’s eyes skated to the side. Beside the wine there was a bottle of lube, the cap popped open.

“I was thinking of you,” Oikawa murmured, “when my fingers were inside me. I always think of you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi made a choked sound and heat flooded his face. He pulled back again and this time Oikawa let him go.

They looked at each other, Oikawa’s eyelids lowered, Iwaizumi battling against his lust and his sensibility.

It was clear which side was winning.

Iwaizumi set his untouched wine aside, wrapped Oikawa’s tie around his fist, and yanked him forward into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and gasps. Oikawa clumsily put his glass aside, wine splashing over the edge to drip onto the desk. Then he looped his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck and licked into his mouth properly, leaving the sweet taste of wine on Iwaizumi’s tongue. Iwaizumi bit into Oikawa’s lower lip and dragged a moan out of him.

“Iwa-chan,” he said, voice husky. “Oh, please, Iwa-chan…”

Iwaizumi shoved him down, pressing Oikawa’s back against the desk and pinning him in place. Oikawa made small, broken sounds as Iwaizumi descended on his neck, leaving licks and kisses and bites that would be visible the following day. He wanted to leave his mark on Oikawa. He wanted Oikawa to think of this every time he looked in the mirror.

Oikawa’s hands were tight in his hair, his back arching as Iwaizumi moved lower, teeth grazing against a nipple as he started unfastening Oikawa’s pants.

Oikawa gasped in a breath and raised his hips, allowing Iwaizumi to remove the dress slacks in one quick pull. 

He wasn’t wearing underwear and Iwaizumi’s dick throbbed at the sight.

He leaned over Oikawa, reaching for the lube, but his hand was smacked away.

“I did it already,” said Oikawa, breathless with want. “Just fuck me.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” said Iwaizumi, even as he was unzipping his pants.

“I’m sure, Iwa-chan. Shut up.”

“What about a con-”

“Shut up, _shut up_ ,” hissed Oikawa. He sat up far enough to dip his hand into Iwaizumi’s unzipped pants and grip his dick, which was already painfully hard. “What part of _just fuck me_ are you having trouble understanding?”

Iwaizumi growled and slapped Oikawa’s hand away. “Fine,” he snapped. He pushed his pants down past his hips and stroked himself once, twice. He gripped Oikawa’s hips, hard, and yanked him to the edge of the desk. 

“Yes, Iwa-chan. Yes, yes… ah, _fuck_!”

Iwaizumi thrust forward and buried himself inside Oikawa with one quick snap of his hips, trusting Oikawa to know if he was ready, pleased to find that he truly was. The warm, wet heat made him throw his head back with a groan.

Oikawa arched off the desk, grinding against Iwaizumi, disconnected sounds tumbling from his swollen lips. 

Iwaizumi already knew Oikawa was pretty; beautiful, even. But like this, with blown pupils and sweat-dusted skin and the broken syllables of Iwaizumi’s name on his tongue, Oikawa was _gorgeous_.

But it wasn’t the time to be sentimental. Oikawa wanted to be fucked, and Iwaizumi wasn’t going to deny him.

He paused for only a second, giving Oikawa minimal time to adjust. Then he pounded into him, starting at a pace that had his breath coming fast and sweat beading on the back of his neck. 

“Ah, fuck, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa managed, the first coherent words he’d managed since Iwaizumi had entered him. “It’s so good, it’s so _good_ …”

Abruptly, Iwaizumi pulled out and took a step back.

Oikawa sat up, mouth hanging open, looking utterly offended. “What are you _doing_?”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“Get up.” Iwaizumi reached for him and wrapped Oikawa’s tie around his fist. He pulled until Oikawa stumbled to his feet. Iwaizumi leaned close, his teeth grazing Oikawa’s ear. “Turn around and bend over the desk.”

“Iwa-chan…”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he said, voice low, “that every time you sit at this desk it’s going to be all you can think about.”

Oikawa’s breath caught. He shuddered beneath Iwaizumi’s touch and turned to do as he was told, nearly strangling himself when Iwaizumi didn’t let go of his tie quickly enough. Oikawa planted his feet and bent over the desk, presenting himself to Iwaizumi, looking at him over his shoulder. “Like this, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi squeezed one of his cheeks and ran his hand along the smooth planes of Oikawa’s back, pushing his shirt up to his shoulders. 

“Yes,” he said, realigning himself. “Just like that.”

Without warning he gripped Oikawa’s hips and slammed himself inside, Oikawa’s muffled yelp urging him on.

He picked up their previous pace as if there had been no interruption, his breath leaving in a rush every time he pounded into Oikawa. He reached up with one hand and pressed it against the back of Oikawa’s neck, holding him down. 

Oikawa moaned and bucked back against him, making him sink in even more deeply.

“Iwa-chan,” he gasped. He gripped the edge of the desk so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Iwa-chan, _please_.”

Iwaizumi tightened his grip and adjusted the angle of his thrusts. With the next one Oikawa howled. “Yes, Iwa-chan, yes! Oh fuck, oh _fuck_.”

Iwaizumi kept his pace, hitting him in just the right spot over and over, leaving Oikawa a writhing, melted mess beneath him. 

It wasn’t long before he was close, so close that he felt himself unraveling more and more with each breath.

“Tooru,” he panted, “I’m going to… Do you want…”

“Just do it,” Oikawa said, his voice wrecked. “Do it, Iwa-chan, I want to feel it.”

Iwaizumi moaned and thrust into Oikawa again, and again… and then the heat reached a volcanic peak and he let himself go, body buzzing in pleasure, white lights exploding behind his eyelids. 

He rode Oikawa through his orgasm, and when he came down, he pulled out slowly. He watched his come dribble down Oikawa’s thighs, dripping along those pale, perfect legs.

“Iwa-chan…”

Iwaizumi seized Oikawa by the shoulders and peeled him off the desk. He turned him around and lifted him beneath the knees, sitting him on the edge of the desk, where he’d been when Iwaizumi had arrived.

Iwaizumi dropped to his knees and wrapped his mouth around Oikawa’s dick, dragging a long, low moan from his throat. He spread Oikawa’s thighs, fingers slipping in his own come, and bobbed his head, taking Oikawa as far as he could manage.

It didn’t take long. Oikawa was already a mess, and with a well-placed flick of Iwaizumi’s tongue he was coming with a shuddering call of _Hajime_ on his lips.

The first spurt went into Iwaizumi’s mouth. The rest spewed across his face, hot on his chin and dripping onto his shirt. He stayed on his knees and looked up at Oikawa, whose face was wiped with pure bliss.

If Iwaizumi could see that face every day for the rest of his life, he’d die happy.

They cleaned up as best they could. Oikawa insisted that the custodial services would get the rest, that they’d cleaned up worse on his behalf. Iwaizumi didn’t even want to know.

They ended up sitting in the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder, staring out the window that made up the western wall. The sky was washed with the fading colors of the sunset, the hues falling beautifully on the relaxed planes of Oikawa’s face.

Iwaizumi looked at him more than he looked at the sky. He took a sip of wine and reached for Oikawa’s hand, tangling their fingers together.

“I hope you end up getting this office,” said Iwaizumi, brushing a thumb over Oikawa’s wrist. “It’ll be awkward if your dad really does call me up here, because I’m pretty sure I’m going to get hard every time I see that desk.”

Oikawa laughed, light and airy. It was his real laugh, not the forced, fake one that he often used. “Then when it’s mine I’ll call you up here often, Iwa-chan. We’ll terrorize the secretary.”

Iwaizumi breathed a laugh into Oikawa’s shoulder. “Who was the woman who called me, anyway? I thought it was your dad’s assistant but she’s not here.”

“One of the new interns,” said Oikawa with a sly grin. “I had to flirt with her a little. I hope you’re not jealous.”

“The end justified the means.”

They sat for a while in companionable silence, drinking in the view along with the wine.

“When I get promoted,” said Oikawa quietly, “someone will have to move to my tenth floor office. Would you like to be an executive, Iwa-chan? Semi can have your job and Makki can have his and everyone will be happy.”

Iwaizumi considered it. He was certain that Oikawa could make it happen, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a good opportunity. 

“No,” he said. He dropped a kiss onto Oikawa’s bare shoulder. “I’m happy where I am.”

“You know you wouldn’t just be getting the job because we’re together,” said Oikawa. “You really do deserve it. You’re good at your work.”

“I know. That’s why I want to keep doing it. I like my position and I like the guys I work with. I’m not ready to move yet.”

Oikawa sighed and rested his cheek on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Whatever makes you happy, Iwa-chan.”

“That would be you.” Iwaizumi shifted, pressing his lips against Oikawa’s. “You make me happy.”

Oikawa grinned into the kiss. “Who knew you were such a romantic. You should treat me like this all the time instead of being so mean.”

Iwaizumi nipped his lip and sat back with a huff. 

Oikawa laughed, soft and gentle. “I love you, Iwa-chan.”

“I love you too, Shittykawa.”

“Rude! See? Even when I’m being nice you still go and-”

Iwaizumi silenced his complaints with a kiss. 

They drank wine and watched the sun dip below the horizon and fell a little more in love.


End file.
